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Pencil Sketches, 



or 



Europe as I Saw It 



By MRS. S. H. HERRIMAN. 



ILLUSTRATED BY 



: 



JESSIE PER I.EE BARRICK. 



THE WHITWORTH BROS. CO., 

CLEVELAND, OHIO. 

1902. 



CONGRESS, 

".' LOEIVED 

«/ XXc. No 
3> & la M- / 
COPY 8. 



COPYRIGHT 1902. 

By MRS. S. H. HERRIMAN. 

All Rights Reserved. 



XV 1 



r! 



TO MY HUSBAND 

AND 

DAUGHTER LUCILE, 
THESE PAGES ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 



PREFACE. 



While traveling in Europe, I kept a journal of each 
day's doings, sending home every week from twenty to 
forty pages. This was written early in the morning, late 
at night, between courses at dinner, on boats, on the cars, 
in railroad stations, in catacombs, in dungeons, among 
ruins, in palaces and on mountain tops. After returning 
home, at the request of my husband, I gathered these frag- 
ments together and rewrote them, but with no thought of 
publication. The earnest solicitations of my friends led 
me to think that what has afforded me so much delight and 
profit, might possibly give pleasure to others; hence this 
humble volume. 

I am greatly indebted to Jessie Per Lee Barrick, whose 
beautiful etchings have made this book much more attrac- 
tive than it otherwise would have been. Also to Thos. 
Cook & Son, for plates loaned. If by these pages I arouse 
a desire in any one to visit the places mentioned, or have 
made plainer any of the customs of the countries traveled 
through, I will have achieved more than I could have 

justly hoped. 

Frances Sampson Herriman. 



Contents. 

Page. 

Chapter 1 15 

Off for Europe. 
Chapter II 22 

Sunday on Shipboard — Ocean Scenes. 
Chapter III 28 

Our First Day in England. 
Chapter IV 33 

London From the Top of an Omnibus. 
Chapter V 3 8 

St. Paul's Church— London Tower— British 
Museum — The National Gallery. 
Chapter VI 45 

From London to Paris. 
Chapter VII 49 

Lost in a Foreign City. 
Chapter VIII. 58 

A Sunday in Paris. 
Chapter IX 64 

Sight-seeing in Paris and Versailles. 
Chapter X 71 

From Paris to Rome — Genoa — Pisa. 
Chapter XI 80 

A Drive About Rome. 
Chapter XII 87 

Churches of Rome. 
Chapter XIII 93 

In Royal Halls, The King's Palace and the 
Vatican. 



CONTENTS— Continued. 

Page. 

Chapter XIV 98 

The Appian Way, Catacombs and Coliseum. 
Chapter XV 108 

A Morning in Naples, Pompeii. 
Chapter XVI 116 

Vesuvius, From Naples to Florence. 
Chapter XVII 124 

Florence, Across the Apennines, A night in 
Venice. 
Chapter XVIII 132 

Shops, Doge's Palace, St. Mark's 
Chapter XIX 136 

A Ride on the Grand Canal. 
Chapter XX 139 

An Evening in a Gondola. 
Chapter XXI 142 

Milan Cathedral, Lombard y and the Alps. 
Chapter XXII 147 

Lucerne — The Lake and City. 
Chapter XXIII 152 

The Glacier Garden, A Restful Villa, On to 
Mayence. 
Chapter XXIV 160 

The Rhine and its Legends. 
Chapter XXV 173 

Cologne, Back to London. 
Chapter XXVI 179 

Westminster Abbey. 
Chapter XXVII 184 

London Shops, Homeward Bound. 



Pencil Sketches, or Europe as I Saw it. 



CHAPTER I. 
Off for Europe. 




T LAST, after childhood's dreams, young woman- 
hood's passion, and maturer thought and longing, 
I have found it possible to carry out my long 
cherished desire, "a trip to Europe." It is now 
settled that I am really to go ; and my daughter Veiva is to 
accompany me. Our stateroom is engaged on the St. 
Louis, which is to sail from New York July 4th, 1900. 

Though it is onlv the first of February, we feel that the 
time is all too short to prepare for such a trip. I do not refer 
to bodily needs, but our knowledge of the history of those 
countries we are to visit must be refreshed and broadened. 
We must become more familiar with the different styles of 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

architecture and the period to which they belong, to say 
nothing of the history of art and artists of the old world. 
We recall the subject of many a discussion at school, 
"whether there is more enjoyment in anticipation or reali- 
zation/' and wonder which will win in our case. Truly, 
the anticipation of these months affords us great pleasure, 
but we hope for more substantial enjoyment in the partici- 
pation of those that are to come. 

The months have dwindled into weeks, and the weeks 
into days, and now the time has come for us to start on 
our journey. Our only regret is that we must leave those 
that are dear to us behind. Our suit cases are packed ; we 
are not to be encumbered with much luggage. Our good- 
byes are said, and in company with two lady friends, who 
are to travel with us, and daughter Lucile, who is to 
accompany us as far as New York, we start for our 
summer picnic, July 2nd. 

Our journey to New York is very pleasant, though 
uneventful. Indeed our minds are so full of the wonders 
we anticipate seeing across the ocean that ordinary things 
impress us as small and commonplace. We are to spend 
the night before sailing with Mr. and Mrs. Myers, at East 
Orange, friends of long standing, and Lucile ifc to be made 
happy all summer by their kindness and generosity. 

16 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

In our lives we have started for many a picnic on the 
Fourth of July, but never on one so stupendous. Who 
would not overlook a little self-consciousness and impor- 
tance in us, who for the first time step aboard a palatial 
ocean steamer? Soon, above the shouting of sailors, 
hissing of steam, roar and confusion, is heard the order, 
"Cast off." Then the revolution of the screws and the 
tearing of the ropes from the capstans, with such velocity 
that pieces fly in every direction and the souvenir 
hunters have the opportunity to lay away their first treas- 
ures — bits of rope folded in tissue paper. We try to get a 
position where we can see our friends, but fail, so we wave 
Our handkerchiefs at the crowd as we pull away from the 
shore and sail down the beautiful harbor. Then I turn 
and, with the capstan for a desk, pen goodbyes to several 
distant friends. Soon the mail is distributed, but there 
is nothing for me. Of course I am disappointed. Before 
we realize it, we have passed the Statue of Liberty and are 
out through the Narrows. With shouts and wavings from 
two or three pleasure boats, we are off for the Old World. 

We spend the forenoon promenading through this 
floating palace, which is to be our home for one week, at 
least, and getting settled in our stateroom. Very soon 
after starting, our traveling companions realize their 

17 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

expectations. One is seasick, and the other is both sea- 
sick and homesick. We laugh, of course; not because 
they are sick, but because we are well and ready for our 
first meal, which nearly every one makes a rush for, as 
though they had been fasting for a week. Americans can 
not forget in one day what has been instilled into them by 
precept and example all their lives ; so they bolt their dinner 
as though business were urgent and they have not the whole 
afternoon to walk the deck and breathe in the invigorating 
salt sea air, which is to quiet and soothe their overstrung 
nerves. 

As I sit in my steamer chair I can feel the "tired" 
slipping away and a careless, pleasant sensation taking 
possession of me. Oh! the ocean is beautiful, ever 
changing — just enough swell to be delightful. To-night 
we see our first sunset on the ocean. We go aft and stand 
and look at the sky, then down to the water, churned by 
the immense screws to snowy whiteness and glinted by 
the last rays of the sun as it drops into a bed of clouds, 
which it has already painted with its most brilliant tints. 
It is so beautiful that it would be very easy for one's eyes 
to add another drop to the briny deep. Just now some 
one is playing "Narcissus," and it sounds like home. The 
evening is warm, and the beautiful moonlight tempts us to 

18 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

stay out on deck until late; but when we do retire to our 
berths we find them comfortable, although we have the 
feeling that we are laying ourselves away in large bureau 
drawers. 

After a good night's rest, I will not say we are, but I 
am up, for a walk on deck before breakfast. These morn- 
ing walks are very interesting; for the second day on ship- 
board one is supposed to have at least a speaking acquaint- 
ance with every one else. There are no introductions, but 
you just talk to every one. Some, even this early, are 
playing shuffleboard or quoits, the two games furnished by 
the steamship company. A few of the sick ones have 
crawled out, and wrapped in their blankets, are curled up 
in chairs, dismally eating their biscuit and coffee and look- 
in 2f wretched ; while others, with their heads over the boat's 
rail are gazing down into the sea with that look of despair 
which only a seasick person can have. We tell them we 
are sorry, and advise them to try and think of something 
else. It is so easy to give advice, you know. We that 
are well eat five times a day and sometimes between times. 
Breakfast at 8 a. m. ; bouillon and sea biscuit at 1 1 a. m. ; 
lunch at I p. m. ; dinner at 6 and tea at 9 p. m. 

We are finding, as one may always do if he looks, 
really congenial companions. It seems the most natural 

19 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

thing that we should form into little companies and discuss 
ways and means of travel and sightseeing. These things 
seem uppermost in the thoughts of each one. There are 
some, of course, who would not feel at home, or that they 
were doing their duty, unless they burdened themselves 
with the affairs of the whole party. They even have mar- 
riages taking place on shipboard, between parties who have 
lived together in wedded bliss for months and, perhaps, 
years. Happy must be that couple who, having their ten 
year old son at home, are mistaken for bride and groom of 
but a day. There are about fifteen hundred souls on board, 
including the crew, six hundred of them being steerage 
passengers. Among them are quite a number of Christian 
Endeavorers who were to have sailed on the ill-fated boats 
that were burned at Hoboken July 1st. Though their 
tables are spread with white linen, and their food looks 
clean, I think a refined person would have to be endowed 
with a great deal of courage to undertake the trip with their 
surroundings. But though there be steerage, second cabin 
and first cabin passengers on board, there is one thing that 
shows our common humanity. When, in the evening they 
gather on the lower deck and sing, it becomes contagious, 
and the passengers from all parts of the boat come to the 

20 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 



same side and join with them in singing, from the jolly 
college songs to "Nearer My God to Thee," and we feel 
that we all meet on a plane of equality, and are dependent 
for care and protection on the same Divine Being. 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 



CHAPTER II. 
Sunday on Shipboard, Ocean Scenes. 




MOST delightful surprise comes to me on Sab- 
bath morning. The stewardess hands me a letter. 
Think of it! Sabbath morning and in mid- 
ocean! I wave it and call out, "A letter from 
home!" 

The expressions on the different faces, and the ques- 
tions, "Where did you get it?" "How did you get it?" 
showed I was not the only one surprised. 

It had been miscarried ; and I am glad it was, for how 
much more I appreciate it now, when so far away. 

One can have a choice of service to-day. A Catholic 
priest says mass in the ladies' cabin at 7 a. m. ; in the 
second salon a Methodist minister preaches both morning 
and evening, and in the first salon the Episcopal service is 
conducted by the ship's purser. The pipe organ is very 
good, and is well played by one of the crew. They utilize 

22 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

their men, making them do double duty. All the services are 
well attended, and why not? There are no ball games, no 
century runs to be made on wheels, no accounts to be 
balanced, no business letters to be received and answered — 
nothing to attract people from giving at least one hour of 
the day to religious services. 

There are quite a number of ministers on board, and 
one of the sailors told us they always expected a stormy 
voyage when that was the case. But it does not come, for 
each day seems more beautiful than the one before. There 
is so much to interest one all the time. If it were only to 
watch the ever-changing sky and water, it would not be 
monotonous to me. But there are the birds, ''Mother 
Carey's chickens," which follow us, picking up the refuse 
thrown into the water. They fly here and there, backward 
and forward, but always keeping near the ship. There 
are, also, the porpoises, which fly from the tops of the 
waves in such large numbers, and occasionally a shark or 
whale is seen, to say nothing of the ships that we pass near 
enough to signal. It is wonderful how much excitement 
there is when there is the least bit of life to be seen. Some- 
times in the evening, the young people gather on the deck 
and dance, but it looks as though it were rather hard for 
them to make believe they enjoy it ; for most of the time, 

23 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

the boat rolls so it is as much as one can do to walk grace- 
fully, to say nothing of dancing. 

The St. Louis is not making as good time as usual, 
this trip, so we shall land one day late at Southampton. 
To-morrow we are to sight land, and a feeling of sadness 
comes over us as we think of breaking up the home to go 
our several ways. Some of our new-found friends we love, 
and hope our paths may often cross each other in the 
future. To the dear old ship, and the brave sailors and 
stewards, who lead such hard lives that it may be possible 
for us to enjoy these privileges — to them all we will be 
sorry to say good-bye. Another beautiful sunset is ours 
to enjoy; in which we trace castles, rivers, forest and field, 
all in gold. To these we must say a last good-bye, for to 
us there can never be another voyage like this. One more 
evening of song in the entrancing light of the glorious 
moon, which we have overtaken each night and found 
located in the same place. We think of our friends at 
home, and know to them it is becoming an old moon, but 
to us she shows her beaming face each evening at the same 
hour. 

As we go on deck in the morning we realize that our 
last day on the water is to be one of our most interesting 
days. Everyone is busy and animated. The immense 

24 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

stacks of mail on deck help us to form some idea of Uncle 
Sam's work in his postal department. We must also watch 
the sailors taking the soundings, 130 fathoms deep, and 
the hauling in of the log, which takes six strong men. We 
expect to see something large and cumbrous, but soon 
what looks like a little bird flitting over the waves appears, 
and when it is drawn up on deck, we see only a brass rod 
about twelve inches long, with several little brass wings 
attached to it. 

We realize that land is not far away, for thous- 
ands of sea gulls fill the air around us. It looks like 
a beautiful snow storm. Their white bodies gleaming in 
the sun, as they poise in air and then float down to the 
water and disappear as though they melted and became a 
part of it. Our cases are packed, ready for inspection, and 
we feel that every moment on deck is precious. Soon the 
limestone banks of England appear. We near Wizzard's 
Point, crowned with its twin lighthouses, and think we 
see our first castle, but, like most of our castles, it is not 
what it seems. When we come near enough to shore to 
get a glimpse of the white farm houses and emerald fields, 
divided by the hedgerows and stone walls, we are charmed 
with the view, and know we shall enjoy England. We 
pass the Isle of Wight in the early evening and reach 
Southampton at midnight. 

25 



4 -~ 
/ 



J 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

Our voyage has been a delightful one, and we 
have enjoyed every moment of it. It has given an ideal op- 
portunity to study character. The crank, the bad 
man, the young girl without companion, for whom we 
are anxious, are all here, as well as the grumbler, who 
complains that the voyage is too long, the weather is too 
warm, the food does not suit ; in fact if he ever gets back 
home, you'll never catch him on the ocean again. Then 
there is the dude, who imagines that all the young ladies are 
dying for just one look or word from him, and he struts 
the deck with painful self-consciousness. One of the most 
unique characters with us is an old Frenchman, who is 
going to Paris to visit a young gentleman friend of his, 
who has been studying art there for a number of years. 
He dresses very gaily, in pink shirts, bright colored vests 
and red ties. He says he leads the fashion for gentlemen 
of quality in New York. He reads his love letters to some 
of the young ladies, and tells them how he loved his wife at 
eighteen, and now, at seventy, true to all Frenchmen's ideas, 
he loves her still. One family in particular I shall always 
think of with great pleasure, Professor and Mrs. Wicks 
and son, of Chicago. There seemed to be a bond of sym- 
pathy between us. There were times when we stood to- 
gether and looked out over the vast expanse of water at 

26 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

the beautifully tinted sky, and spoke of God's greatness and 
goodness, and at such times it seemed as though we had 
already seen about all our feelings could bear. 

I must not neglect to speak of one celebrated person- 
age who boarded the St. Louis at New York. He came si- 
lently and unseen, but with his wiles he is influencing lives 
in this company in such a way that the mischief may never 
be undone. For fear some may not recognize this char- 
acter, never having had their hearts pierced by one of his 
missiles, I will inscribe his name in full, Cupid. 





27 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 




CHAPTER III. 

Our First Day in England. 

E LAND at Southampton at 6 a. m., July 12th, 
one whole day late, but we step on foreign 
soil and are happy. People and things look 
strange to us. The policemen, or "bobbies," 
as they are called here, dressed in short skirts and with 
queer little caps hung on the right ear and strapped 
under the chin, do not make the fine appearance that 
the men of that order do in American cities. The 
funny little engines and cars look like toys. Someone sug- 
gests taking one home for a souvenir. The cars, like most 
of those throughout Europe, are divided into compartments 
holding eight persons each, four riding forward and four 
backward, facing each other. The seats are nicely uphol- 
stered almost to the ceiling, and so arranged that the arms 
of the seats fold back, making them like large couches. We 
step into our little room, the door is shut and locked, and 
with a little toot, toot, from the toy engine we are off for 

28 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

London, not to be disturbed until we reach there, when our 
tickets are taken. The cars run so smoothly we can con- 
verse without effort, and we like them. 

Soon we are riding through beautiful rural Eng- 
land. The houses are mostly of brick or stone. We 
see the tiny thatched roof cottage nestling among the 
trees, then the shady lane leading up to the more 
imposing dwelling on the estate of some English ^ 
gentleman. The fields are divided by beautifully clipped v 
hedge rows, in which the red poppy shows its blushing 
face in such profusion that it looks like splashes of blood. 
We catch a glimpse of an old ruined cathedral, overgrown 
with ivy, and are reminded that we are in a country that / 
was hoary with age long before our own land was discov- 
ered. The chimneys of the houses have from one to a dozen 
chimney pots, large tiles, upon them. When we ride above 
the house tops as we approach London by the elevated road, 
we look down on a perfect forest of them. 

We know we are in the wealthiest and most populous 
city in the world, and find it difficult to curb our impatience 
while we go through with the details of attending to bag- 
gage and settling ourselves in our hotel ; and last, but not 
least, getting our money changed and becoming acquainted 
with it. Our morning ride from Southampton has given 

29 




PENCIL SKETCHES, 

us a desire to see more of the country, so before we start 
out to do London, we will spend one day, at least, away 
from the noise and confusion of the city. Then, too, we 
want to get accustomed to walking on the earth again ; for, 
unlike the ship's deck, it does not rise halfway to meet us, 
but we feel as though we are stepping off some high place 
in the dark. 

We take the car at Chelsea station and enjoy the 
pleasant ride to Sydenham, where stands the Crystal Palace. 
It is constructed of the materials of the building that 
housed the great exhibition of 1851, in Hyde Park, at a 
cost of £1,000,000 sterling. It is entirely of glass and 
iron. The immense water towers at either end add greatly 
to its architectural beauty. The view from the palace is 
said to be one of the most beautiful in Great Britain, or, 
perhaps, in the world, taking into consideration the imme- 
diate surroundings. The gardens are most delightful, 
there being beautiful walks, serpentine streams, statues, 
fountains and lawns, rendering them unsurpassable. 
There is a portion of the building appropriated to tropical 
trees and plants ; to casts of Egyptian, Greek and Roman 
sculpture; to courts of Assyria, Alhambra, Germany and 
Italy. Reproductions of the masterpieces of the great 
sculptors of both ancient and modern times, we see here. 

30 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

Then we turn from all this art and wander through the 
gardens, and admire the flowers, for they are just in their 
prime. Such roses we have never seen before. There 
are no signs "keep off the grass," so we seat ourselves on a 
high mound, where we can look down into an open field 
and see the English gentlemen seated so gracefully on their 
beautiful horses, playing polo, the horses seeming to enjoy 
it as well as their riders. 

The declining sun warns us that the day is drawing 
near its close, and although this is our first day in Europe, 
we have learned that dinner is not served from seven to 
nine o'clock, but at seven. Guests are requested to be 
prompt, so we return to our hotel, "The Salisbury," where 
we do full justice to our first dinner in a foreign land and 
pronounce it excellent. We notice the absence of butter, 
also tea and coffee. Of course, one may have them by 
paying extra, but we want to live, for the time, just as 
near as possible like the people in the countries we visit. 
There are three questions we have already decided: First, 
however unpleasant the circumstances, if they cannot be 
changed, to make the best and most of them, and not let 
the annoyance detract from the enjoyment of more import- 
ant things. Second, never to hesitate to show our ignor- 
ance, if by so doing we can gain knowledge. We find we 

3i 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

have ample opportunity along this line. And lastly, all 
those little vexatious, annoying, unexpected predicaments 
that come to most travelers, to try, at least, to treat as jokes. 
The future only can tell how well we succeed. 

In the evening a young gentleman from home, who 
has been spending some time in Paris, calls to see us. 
We think it very pleasant to have a neighbor to welcome 
us in this distant city. 



32 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 




CHAPTER IV. 
London from the Top of an Omnibus. 

E HAVE read that one ought to view the 
exterior of London first, and enjoy the differ- 
ent styles of architecture. With a gay party 
we start for Ludgate Circus, where begins 
our first experience in seeing London from the top of an 
omnibus. The London omnibus is a study in itself. It 
looks like a small house on wheels and is literally cov- 
ered with advertisements, from "Mellens Food" to the latest 
prima donna who will appear at Drury Lane theater. There 
are winding stairs at the rear, which one must learn to 
ascend or descend while the driver is lashing his horses 
and they are doing their best. They only stop long enough 
for one to step on or off, as the case may be. But when 
we are once seated on top near the driver, and get accus- 
tomed to the swinging and swaying of the ponderous 
vehicle, which just misses crashing into another by a hair's 
breadth, we can see much more and get more information 

33 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

than down on the earth, where people are walking or 
driving; especially if the driver's memory be refreshed by 
a small fee. 

Leaving Ludgate Circus, a few minutes' ride brings 
us into St. Paul's church-yard, with the cathedral on our 
right and the postoffice on our left. St. Paul's church, 
Christopher Wren's masterpiece, is remarkable for its 
massive simplicity and beautiful proportions. The front 
to the west, consists of a double row of Corinthian pillars, 
flanked by towers of great height, and the trancepts are 
bounded by semi-circular rows of Corinthian pillars. We 
are told that the wall at the base is eighteen feet thick. 

As we ride through Cheapside, we notice Bow church, 
another of Wren's best works. Through Poultry street to 
the great financial center, we notice the names of the differ- 
ent streets — Threadneedle, Bread, etc. They sound very 
strange to us. In the early days of the town, special 
articles were sold on certain streets, hence the name. We 
are now in the busiest part of London, and we view with 
admiration the beautiful architecture of the Bank of Eng- 
land, and the Royal Exchange, in front of which stands 
an equestrian statue of the Duke of Wellington. We next 
go down King William street to London Bridge, passing 
in view of the splendid monument erected to commemorate 

34 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

the great fire. There were so many suicides committed by 
people jumping from the top of the tower that there has 
been a high railing placed around it. 

London Bridge is one of the greatest sights of the 
city, especially between the hours of nine and eleven m 
the forenoon. In the vicinity, hundreds of steamers are 
unloading their living freight for the city, amidst a fearful 
clamor of bells, steam whistles and shouting cabmen and 
omnibus drivers, while the bridge itself is a perfect maze 
of moving vehicles and foot passengers. It is estimated 
that more than twenty-two thousand vehicles, and one 
hundred and ten thousand pedestrians cross this bridge 
daily. On our left is Billingsgate, the famous fish market ; 
then the Custom House, with its imposing front, and 
farther on, the wonderful new Tower Bridge, which is 
ranked as one of the triumphs of the century. This bridge 
consists of twin draw-bridges, which are raised by hydraulic 
machinery with the greatest ease, to let vessels pass 
through. Above is a permanent footway. The huge 
Gothic towers on either side contain elevators, so that when 
the bridge is opened it does not retard the stream of people 
that constantly surge and jostle one another as they go on, 
each intent on what life has for him. 

We return by Blackfriar's Bridge, along the Thames 
embankment to the Houses of Parliament. One of the 

35 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

towers is pointed out as containing the robing room of the 
queen. Westminster Hall, the Law courts, and West- 
minster Abbey, are also observed. Here we see the finest 
edifices, from an architectural point of view. In Whitehall 
street is the old banqueting hall in front of which Charles 
I. was beheaded. We ride through Pall Mall, the great 
club and social centre of London. St. James street leads 
past the palace of the same name and Marlborough House, 
to Buckingham Palace, the winter home of Queen Victoria. 
It is a grand old building, partly hidden from view by the 
mammoth trees. There are flowers everywhere in Eng- 
land, from the palace gardens to the little window gardens 
in the dwellings of the poor; for they seem to grow spon- 
taneously. Coming to Hyde Park, with its fine triple 
entrance, near by we see Aspley House, presented by the 
Government to the Duke of Wellington, and next to it is 
the residence of Baron Rothschild. 

We return by the way of Piccadilly and Regent street, 
the fashionable shopping district, to Trafalgar Square, the 
finest open space in London. In the center are granite 
fountains. At the west end is the National Gallery, built 
in Grecian style. In this square, among other monuments, 
is the Nelson Column, in bronze, one hundred and forty 

36 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

feet high, at the base of which are four huge lions, the 
work of Landseer. 

We then pass through Charing Cross, along the Strand 
into Fleet street. It is the time in the afternoon when the 
streets are thronged with carriages. We enjoy looking at 
the costumes, for the ladies' dresses for street wear are 
much more showy than in our cities. They look very fine 
in their little hansoms. I think the people enjoy looking at 
us too, for when we alight at Ludgate Circus, we have 
quite an audience. The paving is very smooth and we 
have enjoyed the omnibus ride, although at first we thought 
the driver did not understand his business, as he always 
turned to the left on meeting another vehicle. We are not 
disappointed in London. Her buildings are grand, her 
people courteous, and we know we shall enjoy our stay 
here. 



37 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 



CHAPTER V. 

St. Paul's Church, London Tower, British Museum, 
National Gallery. 




IE WING London from the exterior has not les- 
sened our desire to peer into the mysteries of 
her old and historical buildings. On our way 
to London Tower we stop and view the interior 
of St. Paul's Church. 

"This is the grandest building in London," our guide 
tells us. 

One architect and one master mason spent thirty-five 
years on this building, under one bishop. There is now 
being put in a beautiful mosaic frieze, that it may be full of 
color, as Wren, the architect, desired. His body, among 
those of many other noted persons, rests in the crypt of 
this wonderful monument. The Duke of Wellington's 
funeral car, made of iron from the cannon which were 
taken in battle by him, is also here. The choir is extremely 

38 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

beautiful in its rich carvings. The great organ is in two 
parts, one on either side. The many marble columns with 
the subdued light which niters through the colored windows 
resting upon them, give us a remarkably fine impression 
as we enter. 

We have the authority of Shakespeare, that the London 
Tower was at least begun by Julius Caesar. 

Prince Edward says, "I do not like the tower of any 
place. Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord?" 

Gloster. — He did, my gra- 
cious lord, begin that place, which 
succeeding ages have re-edified. 

Prince. — Is it on record, or 
else repeated successively from 
age to age, he built it? 

Buckingham. — Upon record, 
my gracious lord. 

This fortress is situated in the extreme 
eastern part of the city, and is separated from it by Tower 
Hill. It covers about twelve acres of ground. It is sur- 
rounded by a moat, which is now used as a garden. On 
the river side is "Traitors' Gate," through which persons 
of state entered the Tower, being brought here in boats. 
This structure is made up of many buildings, including the 




c[l;E' ITf) i 






39 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

Barracks, Armory, Jewel House, White Tower, the Bloody 
Tower, where Richard III. murdered his nephews; the 
Bowyer Tower, where the Duke of Clarence was drowned 
in a butt of Malmsey, and the Brick Tower, where Lady 
Jane Gray was imprisoned. It has been used as a residence 
for the monarchs of England, and many are the kings, 
queens, warriors and statesmen who have not only been 
imprisoned, but murdered within its walls. The Horse 
Armory is an extensive gallery containing a fine collection 
of armor used from the 13th to the 18th century. Some 
of these are extremely rich and beautiful. 

From here we are conducted into Queen Elizabeth's 
Armory, which is filled with arms and relics. It is located 
in the walls of the White Tower, which are fifteen feet 
thick. We stop for a few minutes in the room where Sir 
Walter Raleigh was confined. Also where Lord Guilford 
Dudley, the husband of Lady Jane Gray, was confined, in 
Beauchamp Tower, the walls of which are covered with 
inscriptions by former prisoners, among them being the 
names of several members of the Dudley family. The 
block on which Lord Lovet was beheaded, and many 
ancient instruments of torture, we look upon with horror. 

On the way to the Jewel House are some interesting 
specimens of ancient cannon. The Jewel House contains 

40 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

all the crown jewels of England. They are in an immense 
glass case. Prominent among them is the crown made for 
the coronation of Queen Victoria, at an expense of about 
$600,000. Among a profusion of diamonds is the large 
ruby worn by the Black Prince. Among the royal plate, 
the silver baptismal font, from which the children of 
royalty are baptized, is conspicuous. We stopped in front 
of the Barracks, where the soldiers were drilling, and notic- 
ing that some of them carried their knapsacks, we were 
informed that for some misdemeanor they were obliged to 
carry that burden as a punishment. 

The gates are guarded as of old, by the beef-eaters in 
their ancient looking costumes of red and black; for they 
still wear the same kind of uniform that the guards did 
centuries ago, when the youthful couple, Lord Dudley and 
Lady Jane Gray, suffered death on the scaffold, neither of 
them being over seventeen years of age. 

As Lady Jane sat at her window, where she could look 
out on the place where the scaffold stood, she sent this 
message to her husband : ''Our separation will be but for 
a moment ; we shall soon meet each other in a place where 
misfortunes will never more disturb our eternal felicity." 

As one approaches the British Museum, he is impressed 
by the magnificence of this Grecian structure. It has a 

4i 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 



?=\> 




frontage of three hundred and seventy feet, with a col- 
onnade of forty-four Ionic columns. The library is in 
the center, containing one million, eight 
hundred thousand books, which occupy 
forty miles of shelving. The reading 
room is magnificent, is surmounted by a 
dome larger than that of St. Peter's 
Church at Rome, and has accommodations 
for five hundred readers, each having 
a desk. In one of the halls devoted to Egyptian antiqui- 
ties is the celebrated Rosetta stone, which furnished 
Dr. Young the clew for deciphering the Egyptian hiero- 
glyphics. The inscription is three times repeated, in Greek, 
Demotic and hieroglyphic. The stone is three feet long, 
two feet broad, and ten inches thick. It was found near 
the Rosetta mouth of the river Nile. There are many rare 
specimens of Egyptian sculpture, and mummies with their 
coffins covered with pictures telling the history of the occu- 
pants, dating back more than sixteen centuries before 
Christ. 

In the sculpture gallery is a valuable collection of 
ancient sculpture, mostly original specimens from all parts 
of the old world. Especially interesting are the remains 
of the original Parthenon, at Rome, consisting of the statues 

42 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

and columns; also the remains of the Temple of Minerva, 
and a large statue of the goddess holding the reins of two 
mammoth horses. This statue is said to be the largest in 
existence. In another hall is a fine collection of coins, vases 
and miniature carvings. One piece not more than two and 
one half inches square when opened, contained scenes of 
the crucifixion so perfect in the minutest detail that the 
muscles of the soldiers' arms and hands and the trappings 
of the horses are fully distinct. A rosary bead when opened 
disclosed marvelous carvings of bible scenes. The price- 
less possessions of this museum might afford food for a 
life's study. 

The National Gallery is also Grecian in architecture. 
It contains about fifteen hundred choice paintings, many 
being works of the old masters. Some of them were espe- 
cially interesting: DeVinci's Virgin, with the holy 
children, attended by an angel ; Raphael's Madonna ; Mur- 
rillo's Virgin ; Van Dyck's Old Man ; Visions of a Knight, 
by Raphael. The Brook, by Gainsborough, is beautiful. We 
fancy we hear the gurgle and purling as the limpid water 
goes rippling over the pebbles. Landseer's animal pictures 
are fascinating. He had a rare power of rendering tex- 
tures. He seemed to depict with perfect ease feathers, 
hair, horn ; in fact every texture of animal life. His 

43 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

paintings, Shoeing, Dignity and Impudence, A Dis- 
tinguished Member of the Humane Society, and many 
others are simply charming. 

The evening has come for us to leave England for a 
time, but we shall look forward with pleasure to our return 
visit. After dinner, in the private dining-room where our 
party, numbering about forty, is served, the U. S. flag is 
suspended from the chandelier in the center of the room. 
Of course, we all applaud, then the British flag is hung 
beside it. More applause. It shows to us the kindly 
feeling this great nation sustains for our own equally 
great nation, and is a beautiful God-speed to our company. 



44 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 



CHAPTER VI. 
From London to Paris. 




HE scene in a London railroad station is inde- 
scribable. There is very poor, if any, system 
for taking care of baggage. Each person 
seems to be obliged to look out for his own. 
Every package except what you carry in your hands must 
be weighed; and the din of hundreds of people shouting 
and screaming, as they rush hither and thither, is bewild- 
ering. Seated on our suit cases, happy in the thought that 
these are all we possess, we write cards to our home friends 
before starting for Paris. 

On reaching New Haven, we are fortunate in getting 
bunks on the channel steamer. Many are obliged to stay 
out on deck all night. The trip is without incident or 
accident, though we are told in the morning that our boat 
just escaped a collision with another boat in the night. 

45 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

We are on deck early for we are to land in Dieppe at 5 a. 
m. The first object that meets the eye is a large cross, and 
we realize we are to enter a country where Catholicism 
holds sway. Dieppe is a quaint old town, and we would 
like to explore some of its many mysteries, but that is not 
for us to do. We go directly from the boat to the cars, 
and after waiting long enough to be visited by a score of 
French beggars, who are as persistent as they are polite, we 
go forward for a little way, then backward, then we go in a 
circle until we don't know which way we are headed. Now 
for the first time we fully realize that we are in a foreign 
country ; for from this time we converse with the people 
under difficulties, not understanding their language, with 
the exception of a few words, which prove to be invaluable. 

The morning ride from Dieppe to Paris is certainly 
delightful. It is through a beautiful farming country, 
with high hills rising on either side some of the way, cov- 
ered with many colored grains so planted that they give a 
very pleasing effect — reminding one of his grandmother's 
rag carpet. At times w r e ride for long distances near the 
river Seine. But whether we look on river or hill, in the 
morning light of this perfect day, the scene is charming. 

Arriving at the Exposition Hotel, Paris, at ten o'clock, 
we breakfast and are shown to our rooms. They are on 

46 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

the fourth floor and no lift, or elevator, but when we are 
there, and throw open the windows, and look out upon the 
picture spread before us, we are paid for the climb. In 
front and not far from us is the Terrestrial Globe. To the 
left is the river Seine, with its myriads of boats passing con- 
stantly. Across the river are the Trocadero Hotels, and a 
little farther away is the Great Trocadero Palace, with 
the domes and towers of the Exposition buildings in the 
distance. 

We spend the remainder of the day going through the 
Exposition grounds and getting a general view of the 
buildings. While the grounds are small and somewhat 
crowded, when compared with our Chicago fair, the build- 
ings are grand in sculpture and rich in artistic effect; just 
what we would expect of the French people. 

To-day is the celebration of the storming of the Bastile, 
and Paris is in holiday attire. To-night there is to be a 
grand illumination of the whole city. The question arises, 
how can we best see and enjoy this splendid display? 
Veiva and I decide to go on one of the Seine boats, while 
others go in carriages and many go to bed. We are 
located at the extreme west side of the citv, and the river 



47 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

passes through the Exposition grounds for a long distance, 
and near it are many of the finest buildings of Paris. To- 
night, whichever way one looks, there flashes upon the 
vision the most gorgeous display of electric lights im- 
aginable. 



4 8 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 





CHAPTER VII. 
Lost in a Foreign City. 

ARLY in the evening we go to one of the little 
stations or landings, and seating ourselves in the 
bow of one of the Seine boats, we begin a 
never-to-be-forgotten ride. Besides the won- 
derful illumination of the buildings, millions of colored 
lights are festooned from tree to tree, which latter are 
literally covered with their ripened fruit of Japanese lan- 
terns, enticing one into imagining he is riding through 
orange groves. 

Many of the boats are gaily decorated, and as we 
pass them, we catch glimpses of the gay parties, dressed 
in beautiful costumes, who are being served by waiters clad 
in snowy linen. These floating banqueting halls, together 
with the reflections of the lights in the water, make the 
beauty fairly intoxicating. So much so that we ride on and 

49 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

on, not taking note of the passing time, under a score of 
bridges which span the river with a single arch, looking 
like so many rainbows, with their numberless colored 
lights. The moon seems to rise up out of the water like 
a great ball of blood, as if to commemorate the scene that 
was enacted here so many years ago. 

But we glide on; the lights grow fewer, the water 
looks black, and there is darkness on the land. We think 
we must be near the end of the line, when the boat passes 
up to one of the stations and the few remaining passengers 
begin to go off. We think we will stay on board and 
return to Paris, for we know now we are far beyond the 
limits of the city. The conductor motions for us to go off 
the boat. We tell him by gestures and the few words of 
French we can speak, that we want to go back to "Paree." 
He makes us understand that there is no "batteau" (boat) 
going back to Paree (Paris) to-night. The French talk 
in such an excited way and gesticulate so vehemently, that 
that alone is enough to frighten one, and this conductor 
is no exception to the rule. I know he is trying to help 
us, but I helplessly put my finger to my lips and shake my 
head. We are both thoroughly frightened, but I say to 
Veiva, we must treat it as the greatest joke yet, and trust 
the Lord to guide us. We must not stay on the boat, so 

50 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

we follow the people up the bank. It is a place where 
four roads meet, and several hacks are standing here; but 
which one to take, we do not know. 

Women run here and there screaming, "Place de la 
Bastile!" "Place de la Bastile!" 

They call up the passengers, while their husbands at- 
tend to the driving. As their shrill voices ring out on the 
night air they sound weird and not at all soothing to our 
nerves. Several people seem to realize that we are in trouble, 
and point one way and then another, talking all at once, just 
as we do in America, which only confuses us the more. A 
fine looking gentleman points to and helps us into a hack 
and passes on. Soon the people that are in it begin to 
climb out, and we do likewise. But when we attempt to 
get into the hack they do, it is already full. At last we find 
room in a very large vehicle with seats running lengthwise, 
and are actually started, but not knowing where we are 
going. A gentleman and lady sit opposite us, and they 
comprehend the fact that we are lost, and are so very kind. 

They talk to us in their language, and I repeat the only 
French sentence I am master of, "Je ne parle pas francais." 

A little French peddler who used to stay all night 
occasionally at our house when I was a girl, taught me a 
few sentences of French, and this one comes to my mind 

5i 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

now, as also does the memory of my dear father and 
mother. They never turned any one from their door, 
white or black, rich or poor. 

The little north-west bedroom up stairs was always 
kept ready for any homeless traveler who might come that 
way, and when I used to fret because mother would take in 
every tramp who came along, in her sweet way, she would 
say, " How do I know but one of my children may be far 
from home sometime, and need someone to care for them?" 

So she cast her bread upon the waters, and it has re- 
turned after many days. We feel reassured, so we enjoy 
the long ride through the beautiful boulevard. There is a 
feeling of safety comes to us each time we see the river, 
for our home while in Paris is near that river, somewhere; 
but, like lost children, we can tell neither our street nor 
number. This is our first day in Paris, and we did not 
expect to get lost when we left our hotel, or I should have 
taken a little phrase book that I brought from home for 
such occasions. 

After a long ride, the hack stops. Every one gets out 
and we know this must be the Place de la Bastile. We 
know, too, that we are far from our hotel, for neither Eiffel 
Tower nor the great Globe are in sight. Our friends stay 
by us, or we would be in a worse plight than when we left 
the boat. 

52 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

We point to a carriage and say "cab," and they answer, 
"Oui, oui," (yes, yes). 

Then that little woman fairly flies from one carriage to 
another. But, no, their drivers would not go. It was 
plain to be seen why. Their horses were nearly dead with 
fatigue. They talk a few moments together, the gentle- 
man stays near us, while the lady darts off in another direc- 
tion, and soon returns with a couple of policemen. But 
how are we to make them understand where we want to 
go? 

We say "L'exposition" (with a strong emphasis on the 
last syllable,) "Hota," and they say it over after us, and we 
say "Oui — oui" (yes, yes). 

Then they talk together, and look as though they don't 
know what to do with us or for us. Just here Veiva pro- 
duces a little slip of paper. She has always had the habit of 
carrying something in her hand. When she was a wee 
thing and had her afternoon nap, she usually managed to 
carry a bit of paper or string to bed with her. This slip 
of paper is our salvation; for on it is the address of our 
hotel, both in French and English. 

The policemen procure a carriage and instruct the 
driver where to take us. With very demonstrative hand- 
shaking and waving, we take leave of our friends, wishing 

53 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

we might know and recompense in some way these good 
people, who have been so kind and helpful to us. 

Our ride is now a charming one, along beautiful streets 
almost as light as day, thronged with gay people, promenad- 
ing, singing, dancing and drinking until it seems as though 
the whole city had gone wild with pleasure. We pass 
through a grand square and know it must be the celebrated 
Place de la Concorde, where the guillotine stood at the time 
of the Reign of Terror ; for here on our left, is the main 
entrance to the Exposition, with its flaming arch. Farther 
on we look back through this maze of trees, fountains and 
monuments, spread out beneath a sky which seems to reflect 
each twinkling light. Then we look far, far in front of us, 
up the Avenue des Champs Elysees, bordered on either side 
with those wonderful trees for which Paris is so famous. 
These trees are hung with thousands of orange-colored lan- 
terns, and we say, truly, this must be the most beautiful city 
in the world. 

Soon we see the lights of Eiffel Tower and know we 
are nearing home; but after riding a long distance, we 
know, too, that we are being carried far beyond our hotel, 
which is on the opposite side of the river. We cannot shout 
to the driver and tell him he is going wrong, for we do not 
know what to say; and we do not dare pull his coat tail, 

54 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

as a lady we knew of did last summer when she was here, 
for she loosed it from its moorings and had a good round 
sum to pay for damages. We console ourselves by think- 
ing, "This fellow does not know where to take us, or else 
he has some dark and evil designs, and our friends will 
never know what has become of us." 

In the midst of these pleasant meditations, he turns his 
horse and crosses a pont, (bridge) and drives toward our 
home, but suddenly stops in front of a dark, gloomy looking 
building, and pointing with his whip toward it, turns to us. 
We shake our heads and motion for him to go on, but he 
persists in pointing to that building and talking French. 
Veiva thinks it is a prison. This street is not as light as 
some we have been in this evening, and we do not feel 
exceedingly comfortable; so, to convince him, Veiva steps 
out of the carriage and goes to the massive iron gate and 
looks through. She comes back shaking her head, and 
motioning, with quite marked emphasis, for him to pro- 
ceed, which he does, and soon stops before our hotel. 

I have a very kindly feeling toward this cabman, and 
after giving him the stipulated fare, I want to give him a 
generous tip. When we started out for our boat ride, 1 
expected it would cost us just six cents each. We hadn't 
planned for such an extended tour through the city, so my 

55 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

small change is all gone. I do not distrust the fellow's 
honesty, but am afraid if I give him a five franc piece, he 
might not be able by the street lamp to see to make the right 
change. I have heard people say that they always got rid 
of the small coins they had left from one country, by using 
them to pay tips in the next one they went into, so I offer 
him several English coins. Well, for once I am glad I 
cannot understand French, for I am sure I should not feel 
flattered if I could understand the classical oration he treats 
us to. 

Just as in books, at this moment, the hotel porter comes 
upon the scene, and asks : "Have you paid him the regular 
fare?" 

I tell him I have, he says a few short words in French, 
and the cab and driver are gone. 

Well, we do not feel just comfortable to have even a 
hotel porter see us come home at such an hour, for it is 
not the same day we started away. We are thankful to be 
safe in our rooms again, and decide not to tell our experi- 
ence; for it might be the means of spoiling the same pleas- 
ure for others. So in the morning, when we are asked how 
we spent the evening we answer that we went on a boat 
down the river as far as we cared to, and came back in a 

56 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

carriage through the finest streets of Paris, having a most 
magnificent ride. 

But two or three days after, when I hear some of the 
ladies and gentlemen telling about getting caught in the 
same way, I say, "Oh, that is nothing ; my daughter and I 
had that most delightful experience the first night we were 
in Paris." 

Now, when we hear the gentleman talking in a lofty 
way about seeing Paris by gas light, we look wise, but keep 
mum. 



57 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 



CHAPTER VIII. 
A Sunday in Paris. 




HE next morning being the Sabbath, Veiva and I 
start out again on one of the Seine boats, for the 
Church of the Madeleine. Fortunately we get on 
the wrong boat, where we meet an English gen- 
tleman and his daughter, who invite us to accompany them 
to Notre Dame. This is the most sumptuously ornamented 
church in Paris, and is more like a great museum than a 
place of worship. We get good seats, for which a little 
old woman collects ten centimes, (two cents), and enjoy the 
music. Afterwards we spend some time looking through 
the cathedral. 

Our new-found friends invite us to spend the afternoon 
with them in the Louvre Gallery, and ask if we have the 
nerve to visit the Morgue. After last night's exploits, we 
think we have nerve for almost anything. We learn from 
these friends, that while we were riding through Paris in 

58 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

a carriage, they were wandering around on foot, lost in 
the slums. 

At the Morgue we see a ghastly sight. The bodies of 
persons who have been murdered or have committed suicide 
are brought here and placed in an immense glass case, where 
they are kept frozen for several days, to be identified. 
There are five men in the case at this time. They recline 
in chairs, their bodies being covered with black cloth. One 
middle-aged man has such a fine, scholarly face, and there 
are no marks of violence upon him ; while another carries 
the marks of blows and the blood stains as it trickled over 
his face. This is too terrible! We will away to more 
cheerful scenes. 

We feel the need of food, and sit down at one of the 
little tables on the sidewalk, which are found everywhere 
in Paris, and eat ; but when it comes to drinking — well, they 
don't drink water in Paris. So they bring us a bottle of one 
of their crushed strawberry effects, and it reminds us of 
the wine we used to make when we were children, by 
squeezing the juice of a few currants or cherries into a 
quart of water. But it is cold, and we are refreshed and 
ready to enjoy the most wonderful art collection in the 
world. 

The Old Louvre, which has been connected with the 
Tuilleries by the New Louvre, is considered, from an archi- 

59 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

tectural point of view, to be unequaled, especially its eastern 
front, by any other building in the city. Its famous colon- 
nade, composed of twenty-eight double Corinthian columns, 
was erected by Louis XIV. The facade is five hundred and 
twenty-five feet in length. The magnificent gateway in the 
center, with its gates of bronze, produces a grand effect. 
We have a better idea of its extent when we remember that 
this palace covers over sixty acres of ground. 

We have not listened to any sermons this morning, but 
this afternoon we look upon and feel the impress of thought 
on canvas, as so vividly expressed by the old masters. We 
are enthusiastic over some of them, but when we stand 
before such paintings as "The Immaculate Conception," by 
Murillo, the very atmosphere about it seems sacred, and 
we admire it in silence. In Notre Dame we saw where 
Napoleon and Josephine were crowned. Here we see the 
wonderful painting, "The Coronation," so perfect in every 
detail that it seems almost as though the figures breathe. 

To use a slang expression, the English girl is a dandy, 
worth two Paris guides. She reads French, and with cata- 
logue in hand, she leads the way through these galleries 
as though she was perfectly at home here. We are glad to 
be led, for we never should be able to find our way through 
these miles of corridors. We visit the halls of sculpture, 

60 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

but the place in which we linger longest is the hall of the 
Venus de Milo. Here that most beautiful statue stands in 
all its grandeur, in the center of the room, alone. The walls 
are draped with deep red velvet, which forms a very effec- 
tive background for the pure white marble. 

We have spent four hours most delightfully and profit- 
ably in this palace of art, with these charming people, ana 
when we separate they very cordiallv invite us to visit them 
at their home in Oxford, England, on our return to London. 
I have had a strong desire to enter an English home, and 
I am sure theirs is an ideal one. 

On our return to the hotel, as we pass through the 
court, we stop to speak with a group of gentlemen of our 
party, mostly ministers, I believe, and ask them where they 
have spent the day. They reply, "Right here." 

This reminds me of the time when a number of the 
ladies of our church used to meet once a week to sew 
rags for rugs, which we sold to help defray the church 
expenses. Most of us had to pay, at least, ten cents for car 
fare, we all took our luncheons, and the janitor used to 
shovel in about a half-ton of coal each day, to heat the 
church. Altogether, we would perhaps sew three or four 
pounds of rags ; for we must not cut round corners, but 
they must all be torn off square and sewed together, so as 

61 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

to have the rugs nice and smooth. Well, socially it was a 
great success, but we did not pay expenses. Neither will 
these men, if they sit here and talk of what they are quite 
confident their wives will have for supper to-night, and get 
homesick, when there is so much to be seen. 

We saw one man who was actually so homesick that 
he shed tears — "out loud" too, and someone said, "That 
man ought never to go so far away from home without his 
wife and children." But we noticed after he had taken a 
certain young lady to the opera, a few nights later, that he 
was much better, if not entirely recovered. 

Another man, a Dr. E , who had purchased his 

ticket for a trip through Italy and Switzerland before leav- 
ing the United States, was so badly off with the same com- 
plaint that he offered me his ticket at a great sacrifice. I 
did not try to persuade him to go, nor tell him I did not 
take any stock in the Roman fever scare, but took his ticket, 
and he went back to England to bide his time of sailing, 
happy in the thought that he can at least understand a part 
of what is said to him there. 

After dinner, we walk over to the Eiffel Tower and go 
up into the sky and spend the evening enjoying the illumi- 
nations. The flames of light start on the buildings either 
side of the Champs des Mars, the palaces of Industries on 

62 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

the one side, and the palaces of Chemistry, Education and 
Science on the other, and creep along like fiery serpents 
until they reach the Electricity Building, when they burst 
into dazzling brightness of many colored lights, so beauti- 
fully blended that a babel of voices cry, "Oh ! oh !" each in 
his own language. 

I have been told by those who have spent some weeks 
in Paris, that, although the people drink so constantly, they 
did not see a drunken person while there. We must be 
seeing the unusual, for there is a man in the tower who is 
as full as the glass he is trying to carry. In his zigzag 
course he makes directly for the desk where we sit writing, 
and begins talking and gesturing, also coming nearer than 
is pleasant. Indeed, it seems as though the man is made 
of rubber, the way he sways this way and that, all the time 
dancing a little measure with his feet to keep his equilibrium. 
I do not answer him in French, but I do in plain English, 
and he understands enough to know that we are not partic- 
ularly desirous of his company. The next moment he is 
hustled into a lift (elevator) by an officer, and "lifted" down 
on to the ground, where he can have more room for his 
gyrations. 

The people of Paris seem to have nothing to occupy 
their time but to sit in the cafes or on the sidewalk and 
"eat, drink and be merry." Victor Hugo must have said 
truly in his "Les Miserables" "To err is human, to loaf is 
Parisian." 

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CHAPTER IX. 

Sight-seeing in Paris and Versailles. 

ITH a four-in-hand we start out to see Paris, 

riding through many of its beautiful boulevards 

and squares. The Arc de Triomphe stands in 

a center from which twelve avenues radiate. 

It was built by Napoleon I, in the year 1806, and is the 

finest arch in existence. 

Of course we view the Grand Opera House, noted as 
being the largest in the world, covering an area of three 
acres. Perhaps it is a little overloaded with carving and 
sculpture. Paris has splendid churches. We especially like 
the Madeleine. It is of early Greek style. The carvings 
over the front entrance represent the "Last Judgment," and 
groups illustrating the ten commandments adorn the bronze 
doors. The interior, with its monuments, chapels, and its 
bas-reliefs, is indeed exquisite. Saints' Chapel, with its 
wonderful stained glass, and the Hall of Justice, Hotel des 
Invalides, Napoleon's Tomb, the palaces and monuments, 

64 








i 



kms 




OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

and — and — one can't write about Paris ; it is too magnifi- 
cent, too beautiful, too entrancing. One can only admire 
and enjoy. 

In one of the squares a woman comes along with a 
queer little cart, which she pushes before her. One of the 
party calls out, "Ice cream !" 

This is something we all can appreciate this warm day. 
In a moment's time our carriage is without an occupant, and 
in a few minutes more that woman has converted her stock 
in trade into cash. She sells her cream for ten centimes a 
taste, and serves those tastes on little glass dishes which 
have no depth, but are a delusion and a snare. No spoons 
are furnished, and the only way to eat this cream is to — eat 
it. They serve cream in very dainty quantities in this 
country, though I heard some say they got a very reasonable- 
sized dish for two hundred centimes (40 cents) at a cafe. 

How we have looked forward to a visit to Versailles, 
and now the day has come for us to realize that pleasure. 
The weather is perfect, the company congenial, and what 
a delightful drive it is ! Past lordly estates, where we catch 
glimpses of the beautiful grounds; but only glimpses, for 
they are mostly hid from view by the high walls or fences. 
It was over this same road that the hungry, howling, blood- 
thirsty mob of men and women passed on their way to Ver- 

65 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

sailles on that terrible day when they compelled the king 
and queen, Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, to return to 
Paris with them, to live in the Tuilleries and be tortured by 
insults, and at last to be taken to prison, and then to the 
guillotine. 

We halt for a little while at St. Cloud, six miles from 
Paris. This place has been the scene of many great events. 
It was here that Napoleon put himself at the head of the 
government. The palace destroyed in the last war was the 
favorite residence of Marie Antoinette ; also of Napoleon 
and Josephine. The marriage of Napoleon and Marie 
Louise took place here in 1810. 

Previous to the reign of Louis XIV. Versailles was a 
hunting station. That monarch determined to build a 
palace here that would command the admiration of the 
world. To obtain room for the grounds, he purchased land 
to the extent of sixty miles in circumference. By excavat- 
ing or building up, as was necessary, the landscape was 
made perfect, at a cost of over two hundred million dollars. 
History tells us this, but no words or figures can give one 
the least conception of the beauty spread out here for us 
to admire at our own sweet will, without money and without 
price. 

The trees are a marvel to us, and we wonder how they 
train them to grow just the right height, and to send out 

66 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

their branches in just the right places. We ride through 
long tunnels formed by the meeting overhead of the branches 
of those double rows of trees, so trimmed as to be as perfect 
as masonry. Then on through another avenue, on either 
side of which is a solid wall of green, raised thirty or forty 
feet above the ground, and seemingly resting on, and being 
supported by the huge trunks of trees, so straight and 
smooth that they look like immense pillars. 

The magnificent palace stretches away, block after 
block for more than a quarter of a mile, with equally mag- 
nificent surroundings. The grand promenade in front, and 
everywhere flowers in all conceivable arrangements. Con- 
spicuous also, are the many colossal statues, and fountains 
of unique design. We ascend the broad steps of the palace 
and walk through the numberless halls of paintings illus- 
trative of the victories of France. From the balcony we 
have a fine view of that most wonderful park, with its canals 
and lakes, and miniature ships that sail upon them, and 
the myriads of fountains, the largest of which cost three 
hundred thousand dollars. This one only plays on state 
occasions. 

We wander through the Grand Trianon, built by Louis 
XIV. for Madame Maintenon, his favorite mistress, and the 
story goes that after it was finished, he asked her if there 

67 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

was anything else she would like, for he wanted to have it 
perfect. She said there was but one thing she could think 
of. It was summer, as now, but she thought she would 
like a sleigh ride in the streets of Versailles. The next 
morning, miles of the avenue were spread thick with salt 
and sugar, and a procession of quaint sleighs were in wait- 
ing to take that bad, vain woman out under those summer 
skies for a ride. It is hard to believe that even Louis XIV. 
could have been such an idiot as to attempt to satisfy her 
whim. 

The apartments in this palace are splendid in decora- 
tions, paintings and furnishings. In one room, most richly 
decorated, is the furniture used by Josephine. The bed is 
the one used at Malmaison, probably the one in which she 
died, with the exact reproduction of its furnishings. We 
notice in one of the bath-rooms the very small bath tub used 
by Napoleon. 

The Petit Trianon is near, in the garden of which 
Marie Antoinette used to play the shepherdess, and Louis 
XVI the miller, carrying the sacks of flour upon his broad 
shoulders for the amusement of the company. Not far 
from these palaces is the building where the state carriages 
are kept. There are eight of them, all magnificent. The 
one in which Napoleon took his son, the "King of Rome," 

68 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

to Notre Dame for baptism, is far the richest, having cost 
two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. We return to Paris 
by the way of Sevres, carrying with us many pleasant 
remembrances. 

Our last day in Paris has a very full program. We 
must pay one more visit to the Exposition and enjoy its 
palaces of Art and Industry. The ceramic art, and exqui- 
site wood carving are intensely interesting to me. And 
who of the gentler sex, though she may have no use for 
them, does not like to admire those wonderful creations of 
feminine apparel that only such houses as Worth's and 
Felix' can display ? We spend the afternoon very profitably 
in the gardens and Palace du Luxembourg. This palace 
was built by Marie de Medicis in 1612, and has passed 
through many hands and been occupied by many of the 
French nobility. The rooms are very sumptuously deco- 
rated and gilded, some being devoted to sculpture, and others 
containing the paintings of the first living artists. After 
the death of the artist, his works are removed to the Louvre, 
if thought worthy. 

As we prepare to leave the palace, there is a little 
difficulty in obtaining our parcels, which we left in keeping 
at the desk. A young man comes to us and says: "Let 
me have your cheque, and I will get them for you." We 

69 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

gladly accept his kindness. After receiving our parcels he 
points out many works of merit, and tells us his home is in 
America, but he has been studying art here in Paris for the 
past three years. We avail ourselves of the opportunity to 
make inquiries concerning the most direct route to a certain 
point to which we wish to go. 

As we go out on the steps of the palace, he says : "I can 
just as well call my carriage and take you there/' at the 
same time motioning to the driver, who is in waiting a short 
distance down the street. 

We should have been a little loth to accept so much 
kindness from a stranger if at that moment we had not 
caught sight of a flaming necktie, and recognized our old 
friend the Frenchman, whom we met on the St. Louis. He 
is in the carriage, and this is the young friend he had told 
us about. This is certainly a pleasant surprise, and we 
enjoy the drive greatly. People have been so kind and 
helpful to us, it will be hard to say good-bye to Paris. Thus 
far we have been cared for by Thos. Cook & Son, when we 
did not prefer to care for ourselves, and well cared for, too. 
They have done all and more than they pledged. But when 
we leave here we are to travel independently. Our party 
will consist of five. Dr. McFarren, a minister from Ten- 
nessee, will travel with us through Italy and Switzerland. 

70 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 



CHAPTER X. 
From Paris to Romk. Genoa, Pisa. 




N LEAVING Paris, our little compartment car is 
full, so we are obliged to sit up most of the night. 
How smoothly they run, and how secure we feel, 
for we know in this country there are no railroad 
crossings, and if an accident occurs and the fault rests on 
any individual, that person is severely punished, sometimes 
having to pay the penalty with his life. Not, as in our 
country, quite a hero if he wrecks a train. 

In the morning we find ourselves riding through a 
most delightful country. The buildings are all of stone, in 
various forms, with and without cement, but making a 
variety of colors very pleasing to the eye. Each farmer is 
a genius, using every inch of ground to the best advantage, 
and working out his color scheme with the skill of the true 
artist. 

Then there are the beautiful highways. Mark Twain 
says, "They look as though they had been sandpapered and 

7i 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

rubbed down, and are clean enough to eat on without a 
tablecloth." 

To me they looked as though they were spread with 
the snowiest damask, and laid on a background of emerald 
velvet. This white ribbon follows us everywhere we go. 
Sometimes it forms itself into loops high above our heads, 
and at other places it is far below us. It seems to come 
out of the most unexpected places to meet us, but it is 
always smooth and pure white. 

Hills are now growing higher, and the farmer has to 
go up a little farther with his white oxen to plow. Very 
soon we see no more white oxen, but the little sure-footed 
donkey trudges along drawing the plow, with submission 
written all over him. Now our train begins to shoot 
through tunnels at a fearful rate of speed, coming out to 
find that the hills have grown into mountains lifting their 
snowy heads far above the clouds, which trail their misty 
shadows along their sides, like the snowy robes of a bride. 
The little white church and cottages away up the mountain 
side are a hint of how life goes on up there. 

We come to a place where women and children are 
washing clothes in a stream, hanging them on the ground 
to dry and pinning them on with stones. We wave our 
handkerchiefs to them, and they laugh and return the 

72 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 



salute. Then along the mountain side comes a moving 

mass of household furniture, everything from the iron 

kettle to the baby's cradle, and we know that in the very 

heart of this animated cargo is the body 

of a living donkey ; for we see beneath 

it all, the four tiny feet, as he so 

carefully picks his way over the rough 

surface. And so the day passes, our 

train winding like a serpent around 

mountains, and over torrents driven to 

madness by the melting snows on the 

mountains. With a screech our engine 

dives into a tunnel, and we bid farewell / 

to France ; for we know when we see daylight, nine miles 

ahead, we shall be in sunny Italy. 




GENOA. 
Arriving in Genoa near midnight, we appreciate the 
benefits derived from traveling on Cook's railroad tickets 
and carrying their hotel coupons; for his agent is here to 
meet us. He secures a carriage for us, and is ready to 
give us any information desired. We will never forget 
these suites of rooms at the hotel in Genoa, with polished 
floors so bright that they reflect the tints of the beautiful 



73 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 



ceilings and tasteful furnishings of the rooms. Did ever 
anything look more inviting to tired travelers than these 
dainty, canopied beds? 

Genoa has been called the "superb," and its appearance 
as viewed from the sea must be beautiful indeed. There 
being but little level ground near the gulf, it has had to 
climb the hills, which afford fine advantages for its archi- 
tectural display. Still farther away, forming a background, 
are the hills, each one crowned by its ancient fortification. 
The city is a confusion of narrow streets, lanes 
and alleys, some of them entirely inaccessible 
to ordinary vehicles. Its marble palaces, once 
so beautiful, extend away into the sky, and 
the streets are mere cracks that allow a little 
sunshine to sift through. 

One of the great sights of Genoa is its 
wonderful cemetery, Camposanto. Colon- 
naded corridors enclose a great open space, 
where they tell us the poor are buried. These 
corridors have broad marble floors, every slab covering a 
grave, and on either side for miles are the most exquisitely 
wrought monuments in marble, snowy white in its virgin 
purity. Figures are clad in garments or draperies so chis- 
eled that one is certain of the texture imitated by the 




74 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

sculptor. Here is the shimmering satin in all its crispness, 
and there, the lusterless velvets. As we look down the 
long ranks of sculptured forms, so entrancing in their 
loveliness, we marvel, but are silent; for words are 
inadequate. We have not the time to visit Christopher 
Columbus' birthplace, but we see a fine statue of him as we 
return to the station, and proceed on our way to the Eternal 
City. 

PISA. 
There are several hours between trains at Pisa; long 
enough to see the principal points of interest in the shrunken 
and diminished little city that once was so populous, and 
whose ships commanded the sea. But now she is on the 
increase again, and may become, if she is not already, one 
of the most flourishing cities of the fertile and productive 
province of Tuscany. We get a fine view of the surround- 
ing country when we have climbed to the top of the Leaning 
Tower. Here we walk lightly, and cannot get rid of the 
feeling that our own weight will topple the whole vast pile 
of marble over. We steer shy of the down side, for there 
the sensation of falling is very acute. There is nothing in 
the inside except a rope, which hangs from the high side 
down this tilted well, and touches the other side before it 

75 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

reaches the bottom. The walls at the base are thirteen feet 
thick, and are half as thick at the top. Each story is sur- 
rounded by fluted columns with Corinthian capitals. The 
eighth story, which contains the bells, is much smaller in 
diameter than the others. It has been built seven hundred 
years, but no record tells whether it was built as it stands 
or not. 

The cathedral, which is very large, and rich in choice 
marbles and mosaics, itself speaks to us of the wealth of 
ancient Pisa. The baptistry is still more wonderful. It is 
circular in form, being' one hundred feet in diameter, and 
is covered with a cone-surmounted dome. In it hangs the 
lamp whose measured swing suggested to Galileo the pen- 
dulum. In the center is the baptistry, of finest marble. This 
building is endowed with a most wonderful echo. When 
our guide sounds the tones, do-me-sol-do, they are repeated 
over and over, the notes seeming to form themselves into 
melodies with the most bewitching vpKfations, as they chase 
each other through the beautiful cadences as though played 
on some wonderful instrument by a master hand. The 
word "ha!" is sounded, is taken up by the echo, and we 
hear the most jolly, hearty, rollicking laugh imaginable. 
Then it grows fainter and fainter until lost in the distance. 
We return to the celebrated railroad station which is so 

75 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

beautifully frescoed and possesses such fine sculpture. But 
we are growing accustomed to these art treasures, and 
expect to see them at every turn. After a many course 
dinner, daintily and beautifully served, in the station dining 
room, we continue our journey. 

Two Italian ladies, mother and daughter, occupy the 
compartment for dames with us, and furnish us with enter- 
tainment and amusement for a good part of the night. 
They are well dressed and scrupulously neat. The daugh- 
ter is beautiful. They have a large satchel and a lunch 
basket, both of which they place in the rack above their 
heads. Soon after starting the mother takes off her dress 
and puts on a dressing sacque, and with a small pillow, 
arranges herself very comfortably for the night, and all 
is quiet. In a few minutes she seems to think of something 
in the satchel that is not placed to suit her, for she arouses 
herself and takes it down and begins to unpack. Then she 
re-packs it, locks it and replacing it in the rack, settles her- 
self again. For the night? Oh. no. In a few minutes, 
up she gets, and down comes both the satchel and lunch- 
basket, which are re-arranged. This is more than we can 
bear, and we all begin to laugh, and they laugh, too. Soon 
all is quiet again, and we try to get some sleep, when down 
comes the old satchel with a thud, on the floor. We laugh 

77 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

until we almost cry. She takes a bottle from the satchel 
and a glass from the basket, and passes wine to the com- 
pany ; after which she takes a long draught herself. Surely, 
the woman will rest, now that she has had the thing she 
has wanted all the time. With an occasional giggle from 
different members of the party, we gradually subside into 
quiet and restful slumber, when, horrors! there she is with 
her lunch basket open and an array of provender enough to 
feed an army. This is too much ; we fairly scream, and 
the daughter joins us, while the mother arranges the goodies 
and passes them around. After a few more turns at the 
satchel and lunch basket, we arrive at the station where 
they change cars. But they have left their cheer with us ; 
the laugh has done us good. 

I awake in the early morning. I cannot sleep, for 
there is too much of interest. We are nearing Rome. The 
country resembles our home land. The buildings are much 
the same as in France; and as in France, there are few 
fences, and we wonder how the farmer knows his boun- 
dary line. The cattle are large, with broad horns, and dark 
legs shading into light cream, the color of their bodies. At 
one station we saw an ox and a donkey harnessed together, 
and one of our party said she saw a woman and a donkey 
drawing a cart, but I did not observe that. 

7» 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

We pass the marble quarries of Caracara and ride along 
by the side of the yellow Tiber, and soon are really in 
the Eternal City. It is magnificent ! So beautiful, so clean, 
we are in love with it from the first moment. Our hotel 
accommodations are all that could be desired ; everything is 
on an immense scale. The beautiful frescoes and marble 
floors, together with the elegant furnishings make our sur- 
roundings ideal, and we do not dream of, but we actually 
dwell in, marble halls. 



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CHAPTER XL 
A Drive: About Romk. 




UR GUIDE, Caesar Borromeo Palmili — surely 
he has a high sounding name — is a very intel- 
ligent and pleasant young man., a descendant 
from a family of cardinals for many generations 
back. With confidence in his ability to show us 
Rome, we start out in animated spirits for Palatine 
Hill, the entrance way of which is near the Roman Forum, 
Romulus, followed by a number of Alban shepherds, occu- 
pied the Hill of Pales in 753 B. C, and we see some of the 
huge tuf*/ blocks which are supposed to be a part of the 
original wall that he built to protect his colony. Not far 
from here stood the den of Pan, the god of the shepherds, 
and here, also, was the ancient bronze group of the Nursing 
Wolf, commemorating the mystic one which suckled Romu- 
lus and Remus. 

On this hill those proud, patrician monarchs, the 
Caesars, reared their palaces, and it is strewn with imposing 

80 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

ruins. Now the grass grows and the flowers bloom above 
the ruins of those palace halls, which resounded to the mirth 
and jests of those who enacted life's drama so many cen- 
turies ago. From this hill they could look down upon the 
Roman Forum, and the Coliseum, with its numberless col- 
umns and arches, looking like lace work as the sunlight 
sifted through. 

The palace of Severus was built facing the Appian 
Way, so travelers coming from the south could see its mag- 
nificence. But now that grandeur has all passed away, 
and all that remains to be seen are the broken columns and 
ruined walls which have been unearthed. Those old mon- 
archs had things very convenient. They could sit in their 
guard houses or balconies and watch the horse and chariot 
races in the Circus Maximus below. This great circus, 
with a seating capacity of two hundred thousand spectators, 
has shared a worse fate even than more ancient Rome; for 
every trace of it is obliterated, the site being now covered 
by the gas works. 

It would be very enjoyable to stay here on the hilltop 
and dream of Rome in her imperial splendor, but as it is 
the most natural thing to go from one extreme to the other, 
we are soon standing before Guido Reni's celebrated Arch- 
angel, in the Church of the Capucians, which claims our 
attention for some time. This is the first masterpiece we 

81 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

have seen in Rome, so we must show proper appreciation. 
Our Caesar rings a bell near the high altar, and a monk 
appears who leads the way down a flight of steps into the 
vaults below. Here is a different style of decoration from 
anything we have seen before. There is no lack of mate- 
rials, if it has taken centuries to collect them, for here 
are the bones of four thousand monks, arranged with 
the most artistic skill. The archways separating the rooms 
are built of the thigh bones, with elaborate designs at the 
top. Over the ceilings and walls are vines and flowers, 
their leaves and petals being of knee-caps, finger nails and 
toe nails ; and the graceful tendrils, of the cords and sinews, 
dry and crisp, giving a touch of color very pleasing to the 
artistic eye. The ground is of earth brought from Calvary, 
upon which are piled pyramids of skulls. The 
monk picks one up and turns it in his hand very 
much as a huckster would a fine potato or cab- 
bage, at our back door. I have no doubt he 
has a modest pride in thinking that some day 
his own white and polished skull will be exhib- 
ited in like manner. 
J At regular intervals along the walls are the 

W//j dried bodies of monks, perhaps those whose 
'' lives of sacrifice have entitled them to the priv- 
ilege of having their bodies remain intact. Dressed in 
black flowing robes they stand with outstretched hands, 

82 




OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

as though invoking a blessing on the work ac- 
complished. There is such a pleased look on their 
shrunken and drawn features, that it is almost a grin. We 
take a spoonful of the Calvary earth as thousands do every 
year, and still it is not exhausted. I suppose they have a 
car load sent over once in a while. And as we meditate, the 
thought comes, what a stirring time there would be among 
these dry bones if we should hear the sound of Gabriel's 
trump. 

It is a dreary place, but when we descend into the dun- 
geons of the old Mamertine prison, where the light of day 
has never penetrated, the gloom is simply terribl^ In the 
lower dungeon, many notable persons have been executed. 
Tradition says that Paul and Peter were confined here be- 
fore their execution. A spring of water in the middle of 
the room is said to have gushed forth at Peter's command, 
and with it he baptized the two jailors, Processius and Mar- 
tineus. 

In the stone wall at the head of the stairs leading down 
into the lower dungeon, is the imprint of a man's face, and 
tradition says that as Peter started to go down those stairs, 
the jailor struck him and he fell against the wall, leaving 
the image of his face. 

One of our party turned to the guide and asked : "Do 
you believe it?" 

83 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

He shook his head and said, "No, I don't believe it, 
but tradition says it is so." 

We drink from the spring, the water being clear and 
sparkling and icy cold. 

As we drive about the city, Caesar points out many 
objects of interest; as Paul's hired house, where he lived 
for two years, and where Luke wrote most of the Acts. 
Now it is converted into a chapel. The house of Bernini, 
one of the greatest sculptors ; Cardinal Barbarena's palace, 
built of marble taken from the Coliseum ; the house of 
Raphael's sweetheart, and the house where Garibaldi took 
refuge when he was condemned to death, are also pointed 
out by our guide. 

The Temple of Fortune, built 554 B. C, and the Temple 
of Vesta, 350 B. C, are observed with interest. Near the 
latter are the ruins of the house where the Vestal Virgins 
lived. They had the task of keeping the fires of Vesta, 
symbol of the Roman power, always burning. In case 
they neglected their duty, they were severely punished ; and 
if they violated their vows of chastity, the penalty was death 
by being buried alive. The Golden House of Nero seems 
endless. 

As Caesar points to it and says, "This is the Golden 
House of Nero," some one remarks, "I thought we saw that 
away back some time ago." 

84 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

And he replies, with pride, "You did, but this is another 
part of it." 

I suppose this was an extra room which he built on for 
Poppaea. Rome has many beautiful piazzas, or squares. 
In one stand the mammoth statues of Castor and Pollux 
holding their horses. On the bases are inscriptions stating 
that these statues are the work of Phidias and Praxiteles. 
In the Piazza del Papolo, between four marble water-spout- 
ing lions, stands the obelisk which Augustus brought from 
Heliopolis and erected in the Circus Maximus, and Sextus 
V. removed to this square. 

We visit Trivi Fountain, built by Clement VIII. Nep- 
tune, god of the sea, rules the storm from a chariot drawn 
by horses driven by Tritons, mythological figures, half fish 
and half human. We drink from this charmed fountain, 
as visitors do who wish to return to Rome. 

Modern Rome with its high marble blocks, has much 
the appearance of an American city, the lower stories being 
used for shops of various kinds. The doors must be re- 
moved or concealed during the day, for the great archways 
are hung with portiers of bright colored materials, and 
some even have lace ones underneath, giving the streets 
quite an oriental appearance. And whether the wares are 
bread, fruits or meats, everything is scrupulously clean, 

85 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

and the women and children who attend these shops are no 
less so. They have no need of screens, for there are very 
few flies here, and when we do see one he looks lonely and 
out of place. 



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OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 



CHAPTER XII. 
Churches of Rome. 



H 



HIS Sabbath morning we are to visit St. Peter's 
Church, and although we have read and been told 
about it by friends who have visited it, we have 
failed to comprehend its magnificence. We are 
anxious about getting seats unless we are early, for we can- 
not realize that eighty thousand persons would have to conic 
to St. Peter's to crowd it. And vet there are more than four 
hundred other churches, which must have congregations. 

We ride through the piazza, with the obelisk and twin 
fountains. On either side Bernini's colonnade, four rows 
of columns and pilasters surmounted by a vast number of 
statues, forms a girdle for it of monumental majesty. W T e 
gaze at the basilica, and know it is the largest church in 
Christendom. Yet we are not surprised at its greatness. 
We are not very enthusiastic about it, for it does not im- 
press us as being so large. 

A pebbled incline stretches out under the blazing sun 
and steps follow steps. At last we reach the door and go 

87 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

in. Still we cannot realize its vastness. Everything is on 
such an immense scale, we have nothing for comparison. 
There are gigantic basins for holy water ; cupids ten feet 
high ; an apostle writing with a pen like a soldier's spear, 
and here is the wonderful statue of Moses, Michael Angelo's 
masterpiece. There is nothing small in St. Peter's except 
the people. We look down the middle nave a few hundred 
feet and see men and women, and they look like so many 
ants running around. We walk down where the great but- 
tress piers support the dome. The capitals of these piers 
are as large as an ordinary cottage, and the cupola above 
looks like a planet, resplendent with bright mosaics. Oh, 
the dazzling splendor of it all ; not a place as large as an 
infant's hand but is gorgeous with the richest and most 
beautiful marble. 

Now the story of the officer who was to meet ten thou- 
sand troops here in the church to celebrate mass seems prob- 
able. At the time appointed he came, but not seeing them, 
thought they were late. They were in one of the trancepts. 

The high altar beneath the dome is raised over the 
tomb of St. Peter, and from it descends the double steps 
of the confessional, illumined by ninety-three lamps, which 
are always kept burning. At the right of the nave is the 
famous bronze statue of St. Peter, which is supposed to 
have been cast by Leo I. from the bronze statue which stood 

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OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

in the temple of Jupiter. And soon some more ancient 
bronze must be found, to repair St. Peter's big toe, which 
is fast being kissed away. 

We will try to imagine that high mass is to be cele- 
brated to-day by Pope Pius XIII. The procession moves 
with great pomp and majesty down the long nave. First 
of all come the Swiss Guards, in full uniform ; then valets, 
in scarlet; the Knights of the Cape and Sword, in Renais- 
sance costume ; prelates, in violet silk, follow ; cardinals, in 
purple, with train bearers, and finally his Holiness, in white 
vestments, raised high, on his royal chair, which is draped 
with red velvet ; and grouped around him are the high 
dignitaries of the Vatican. The pope ascends the high altar 
amid breathless silence, and his powerful voice rings clear 
as he says the mass and blesses the forty or fifty thousand 
people who are gathered in the central part of the church. 
Now is heard the low chanting of the hundreds of voices 
in the cupola, which grows louder and fuller, until the very 
heavens seem filled with the melody as the throng passes out 
from the impressive service. 

I have read and been told that the roof of this vast 
museum, high in air, is a little world in itself, where the 
people who care for it and keep it in repair live. These re- 
pairs cost no less than $30,000 annually. These people have 

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streets, houses and gardens on the roof of St. Peter's. 
Children are born and reared here, and life goes on very 
much the same as in any small village. They certainly 
live exalted lives. 

The people of Rome make the most of St. Peter and 
everything connected with his name. In the church of St. 
Peter's Chains, a monk lights a candle and leads the way to 
an altar. He draws aside a heavy silk curtain, and there, 
hanging in a glass case, is quite a modern-looking chain, 
perhaps three or four feet long. But, of course, it is the 
very identical chain with which Peter was bound nearly two 
thousand years ago. 

We visit several churches with names of the various 
saints, as Santa Maria of the Angels, where an ancient 
Roman temple stood ; Santa Maria of the People, built on 
the site of Nero's tomb; Saint Bernardo, etc., etc., ad 
infinitum. In these churches we see the masterpieces of the 
great artists and sculptors, and the attendants, or care- 
takers usually have a piece of the true cross to show us, and 
a few trinkets ; like a dozen or so of the pillars from Solo- 
mon's Temple or the Temple of Jupiter, or the sarcophagus 
of Marcus Agrippa or some other old Roman. 

The Italians have a recipe for preserving their saints 
and keeping them three or four hundred years. When a 

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OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

cheek caves in, they fill it up with wax. Indeed, we see one 
young and beautiful saint — I mean young when she departed 
this life, but very, very old now — whose body is wholly cov- 
ered with wax. It is dressed in showy silk, and is lying in a 
glass case, reminding one of the best doll, laid away for 
special occasions. 

Of all the churches we visit, St Paul's-Without-the- 
Wall pleases me most. Church annals state that the body 
of St. Paul was buried in a small cemetery which belonged 
to a Roman matron whose name was Lucina. Constantine 
erected a basilica over this tomb, which was enlarged and 
embellished about the year 286. It has been twice injured 
by fire and restored again. There is a main entrance being 
erected at the present time, which when completed, will make 
St. Paul's- Without-the- Wall second to no other church in 
the world. The main nave is decorated with great pillars 
of fine granite and divided by rows of the same, from four 
smaller naves. In the center rises the papal altar, covered 
by a bronze pavilion supported by four alabaster pillars. It 
covers the spot where St. Paul and Timothy are buried. 

High up on the wall are paintings representing scenes 
from the life of St. Paul, and forming the frieze are por- 
traits in mosaics, of two hundred and sixty-three popes, 
from St. Peter to Pope Pius XIII. Still there is room for 

9i 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

hundreds more. Two immense pillars support the arch of 
Placidia, which shows, in mosaic, the oldest image of our 
Lord in Rome. In the trancepts are two altars covered 
with malachite presented to Gregory XIV. by Nicholas of 
Russia. The ceiling is a mass of gold gilt, and the floor is of 
highly polished marble. Now, contrast this wealth with the 
poverty and squalor that meet us as we emerge from the 
church. Beggars of every description, from the tiny babe 
to old creatures who hardly seem human. In these we see 
the natural results of Catholicism. 



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OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT 



CHAPTER XIII. 
In Royal Halls, The King's Palace and the Vatican. 



WRITE to-day on royal paper, which our guide ap- 
propriated for me from the king's council chamber. 
In this room is the statue of Pompey, at the foot of 
which Caesar fell. There is, also, one of the present 
king. The walls of this cabinet are decorated with old 
paintings by Romano, "The Flight into Egypt/' and "The 
Slaughter of the Innocents," being among them. 

On entering the Royal Palace we are taken into a room 
containing Victor Immanuel's funeral decorations. There 
is also a solid gold crown of acorn leaves, presented to him 
by the people. In another apartment are the tapestries of 
the Medicis family. After enjoying these rare treasures, 
we make a tour of the royal halls. Each one has a dif- 
ferent color scheme. I will only mention two of these halls, 
although they are all marvels of richness and beauty. 

The Throne Room is furnished in red, the ceiling being 
of gold gilt, and the walls are covered with the richest of 

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PENCIL SKETCHES, 

silk damask to harmonize with the furniture, which is 
beautifully carved and overlaid with gold. In one end is 
the throne, with its canopy of red velvet, and in the opposite 
end are life-sized standing portraits of the king and queen, 
while at one side are the portraits of the Prince of Naples 
and his wife. 

The Conversational Hall, where the king and queen 
meet the court people, is furnished in cream and gold. Every- 
thing about it is so light and airy ! The floor is inlaid with 
the most beautiful of woods, highly polished, and the ceiling 
— well, they paint such ceilings only in Italy. On it there 
is a mingling of fair forms and garlands of flowers, while 
cherubs laden with roses seem to be tossing them in every 
direction. The walls are hung with the richest Gobelin 
tapestries. In the center of the hall is a gilded crown per- 
haps ten feet across, for the arrangement of flowers. With 
its many glistening chandeliers and exquisite furnishings, 
it is a dream. 

Then I think of our chief executive at home, in Amer- 
ica, who, I have heard it hinted, if he has guests numbering 
more than four, has to have a bed made on the floor for him- 
self and the "first lady of the land." Near the Royal Pal- 
ace is another palace built in 1063 on the ruins of the 
Baths of Constantine. On the ceiling of the central room 

94 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

we see the finest fresco in the world, "The Aurora." It 
cannot be described ; it must be seen. 

In keeping with the Royal Palace is the queen's milk- 
house. In the stables is a long row of beautiful cows leis- 
urely chewing their cuds while standing in clean straw up 
to their sides. When Caesar asks if we would like some 
milk, the rest refuse, but not I. I am tired and hungry, 
and when he brings a large glass full, right from the cow, 
I know I never tasted anything better ; and it refreshes me 
for the long walk through the Vatican. 

Driving through the Piazza San Petro, we look long 
again at that king of churches, St. Peter's, whose dome 
seems to almost fill the sky. The brass globe above the 
dome, which we know twelve persons can occupy at the 
same time, seems but a tiny ball that a child might hold 
in its hand. It is nearly four hundred and fifty feet from 
the ground. 

To the right is the Vatican Palace, the home of the 
pope and his court since Gregory XL Each one has added 
to it in a way that renders it the largest and most splen- 
did building in the world. It has twenty courtyards and 
more than eleven thousand rooms. When Pope Pius is car- 
ried from his apartments to his gardens, he passes through 
one mile of corridors, halls and stairways resplendent with 

95 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

the most exquisite marble, frescoes, sculpture and paintings ; 
and all from the hands of such artists as Michael Angelo, 
Raphael, Guido Reni, etc. As we enter the Vatican, we 
see the Swiss Guards, in their gaudy uniforms of red, black 
and yellow. These uniforms were designed by Michael 
Angelo. Going up the Scala Regia, or Royal Staircase, we 
enter the Sala Regia, or Royal Hall, with its wonderful 
frescoes. These frescoes on the ceiling are a marvel to us. 
We can understand how effects can be produced on flat 
surfaces, but on these curved ceilings, the foreshortening 
and wonderful intricacies of drawing, the delicacy of touch, 
the simplicity of laving on of colors, the feeling, the soul, 
leave us spellbound with the magnificence. Now we real- 
ize how those old masters worked for years on one ceiling. 
This palace is bewildering in its vastness and its rich- 
ness of art. There are forty halls of Grecian sculpture, 
every piece a gem, besides miles of paintings, gathered here 
and preserved and cared for, free for all who will, to en- 
joy. Yet, I am sorry to say, there are people who will par- 
take of all these privileges, and then complain of being rob- 
bed, if perchance they are asked for a small fee by some 
one in attendance. A look into the garden of the Vatican 
must suffice, as we are not allowed to enter. Neither do 
we see his holiness, the pope. Our guide obtained per- 

96 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

mission for us to do so, but it is for Wednesday, one day 
beyond our sojourn in this city. The papal carriages are 
very elegant in gold decorations, yet they are not as fine 
as the royal carriages at Versailles. 

Some of the tombs of the popes are very magnificent. 
That of Pope Pius IX. is rich in the choicest mosaic work, 
with gold and gems. The ceiling and walls are of the 
most elaborate designs, worked out with those tiny bits of 
colored marbles so that the shading and softness of colors 
would almost rival the most beautiful paintings. Not far 
from the tomb, or chapel, is the stone which marks the 
place where St. Lorenzo was burned alive. 

There is something else one enjoys in Rome besides 
the art, ruins and tombs, and that is the music. Every 
evening a fine military band plays on a piazza close to our 
hotel. The first evening we "do as the Romans do," prom- 
enade in the piazza. But the second night we think we 
will enjoy the music in a more restful way, and nature as- 
serts her rights and we fall into a dreamless sleep, lulled by 
the sweet Italian airs. 



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PENCIL SKETCHES, 



CHAPTER XIV. 



The Appian Way, Catacombs and Coliseum. 




HE horses' hoofs click on the pavement, the car- 
riage wheels roll as smoothly as on any other road, 
and we feel no differently, although we are riding 
in the Appian Way, the queen of roads, built by 
Appius Claudius three centuries before 
Christ was born. Passing the family 
tomb of the Scipios, a door, with steps 
close by, leads to the tomb of the 
writers, physicians, silversmiths and 
Li! musicians of Nero's household. Then 
we ride through the Arch of Drusus, 
erected to record his victories over the 
Germans, The remains of the aqueduct which sup- 

plied Caracalla's baths are still to be seen at this place. 
These baths must have been very magnificent. In- 
deed, wherever we go in Europe, if we are at a loss to re- 
member where any ancient and beautiful piece of sculpture. 




98 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

or baths of onyx or alabaster, came from, we would be 
quite safe in saying they came from the Baths of Cara- 
calla, or the Golden House of Nero. 

The chapel "Domini Quo Vadis," is a little farther on. 
It was built to commemorate an early Christian tradition, 
which says, "The Lord bearing his cross, met Peter at this 
spot when he was leaving Rome to escape a martyr's death ; 
but when Peter saw his Lord and the evidences of his suf- 
ferings, he turned back and willingly submitted to be cru- 
cified, but requested that it might be with his head down- 
ward." Jesus disappearing left his "footprints," which 
Caesar tells us we will see in St. Sebastian's church. On 
the high ground in front of us towers the tomb of Metella, 
and beyond are ruins, ruins, ruins — crumbling pillars, and 
broken statues. In the distance before us are the Apen- 
nines and Sabine hills, to the right, the Alban and to the 
left, die Etruscan hills. !n the plain called the Campagna, 
among other ruins are the remains of the aqueduct which 
Claudius built to bring water to Rome. The Appa Forum 
mentioned in the Acts, is forty miles beyond here, but the 
site of the Three Taverns is unknown. 

We stop at St. Sebastian's church and see the "foot- 
prints," but we are disappointed. Either that tradition is 
at fault or they picked up the wrong footprints, for these 

iL.r&. 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

must have belonged to a giant. After looking through 
the apartments of the friars, with their plain but mas- 
sive old furniture, Little Joseph, a fat, curly haired 
old friar, lights a taper for each one of us, and we 
descend into the catacombs. Here the early Christians 
buried their dead, and concealed themselves, to avoid per- 
secution. It is estimated that there are nearly six hundred 
miles of these subterranean passages about Rome. I thought 
I had been in dark places before, but here is darkness that 
can be felt. The light from our candles penetrates the 
gloom only for a few inches. We keep close together, for 
we realize that in this maze of passages, extending in every 
direction, it would be fatal to become separated from our 
guide. We tell what we would do if such were the case, 
but it seems as if the blackness, the gloom and stillness 
would soon kill one. We are encouraged and comforted 
(?) by being told of a company, with two friars, who were 
lost here a short time ago, and never found. 

With confidence in our guide, we proceed along the 
main corridor. In some of the niches are lying the bones 
of human beings, and as the flickering light from our can- 
dles falls through the eyeless sockets of these skulls, I am 
reminded of a time when a friend and myself attempted 
to put a temperance lesson on canvas. We arranged a 

ioo 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

study consisting of a human skull, a whisky bottle and 
glasses. The skull was placed near the bottle so its ghastly 
profile was reflected bv the dark glass. We arranged 
this most interesting study in the farthest corner of our 
attic, somewhat in shadow, and while we worked we dis- 
cussed the subject "whether departed spirits are permitted 
to revisit this earth," and we wondered if, perchance, the 
soul to whom this skull belonged might not be near and 
taking a lively interest in our work. In the stillness of the 
place it seemed as though each sound that reached us was 
the stealthy step or fluttering garments of some invisible 
being. 

That night before retiring I made some trivial excuse 
for returning to the attic. I was so pleased with the prog- 
ress we had made that I wanted to have just one more look, 
as one does at a new hat or a new gown. Taking a candle 
I tip-toed the whole length of the attic, and there was the 
study and canvases, as we had left them, but, some way, 
I had lost interest and turned to retrace my steps, when 
that same queer feeling that used to tak° me in the back 
when a child, when I was sent into the dark cellar for 
vegetables, came over me. I turned about and backed the 
whole length of that long room, and the next moment I 
was in my own apartment with my mind fully made up to 



101 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

defer my admiration until daylight. But in this place we 
have no queer feelings in our backs ; we are getting accus- 
tomed to seeing bones everywhere ; they seem to be the 
swell thing for decorations. I have heard it said that in 
one of the cathedrals here in Europe, the skull of one of the 
Magi is used as a drinking cup. 

We are shown the tomb of St. Cecelia, and we take a 
little of the rock as a memento, and yet we are in doubt ; for 
we have heard of this same saint being buried in another 
catacomb. A little distance farther on we come to a chapel 
where the Christians met for worship. It is a room about 
ten or twelve feet square, with a simple altar of stone. We 
think of the pomp and grandeur of the monuments erected 
to perpetuate the lives of those pagan monarchs, which 
we passed on our way here, and contrast it with the gloomy 
but peaceful resting place of these Christians, where they 
await the resurrection morn. The darkness is so intense 
and the gloom so unnerving that some of the party refuse 
to go any farther. 




102 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

We return to the warmth of day, and the cheer of sun 
light and ride back over that highway on which the victorious 
legions of the great Cciesars marched in triumphal procession 
toward Rome. Paul, too, walked over this road, bound as 
a prisoner. He fought no battles with sword and battle 
ax, but his consecrated life has battered down the walls 
of superstition, and permeated and enriched the lives of 
millions and brought them to a saving faith in the world's 
Redeemer. His was not a triumphal entry into the "eternal 
city," but the king whom he served and for whom he suf- 
fered, has gone on from triumph to triumph, on down 
through the ages ; and the songs of his victories shall echo 
and re-echo when the name of Rome shall be lost in oblivion. 

We have feasted our eyes on churches and temples ; 
the Pantheon and villas: arches dedicated to Constantine, 
Titus and many others ; the Trojan forum and the Roman 
forum, where are seen the ancient remains of those build- 
ings which have witnessed the rise and fall of the greatest 
empire of the world. We visit the spot where Nero died. 
There is no imposing monument to mark the spot; only a 
plain, flat stone. Flowers grow in the court, which is sur- 
rounded by buildings occupied by the very poor 

As at other feasts, the best is often saved until the 
last, and so it is with us ; for we are now to visit the most 



103 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

magnificent ruin in the world, the amphitheater of imperial 
Rome, the Coliseum. It was begun A. D. 72, by Vespacian, 
on the site of the Golden House of Nero, and was inaugu- 
rated by Titus in 80, with sports that lasted one hundred 
days, during which, thousands of men and beasts gave up 
their lives. History states that at least eighty thousand 
Christians perished in this building alone. We imagine 
old Nero would have heaved a sigh of satisfaction if he had 
known that the site of his house was to be dedicated to 
the carrying on of his fiendish persecutions. 

We can hardly imagine the grandeur of this gigantic 
structure in its early days, for it is grand even in its decay. 
It is Greek in architecture, and changes at every tier. 
The first is Doric, the second Ionic, and the third Corin- 
thian, each of the lower tiers having eighty arches, and the 
whole being veneered with marble. The interior is awe- 
inspiring. Perfect stillness reigns. The rays of the de- 
scending sun shining through its many arches shed a mel- 
low light over all, and if we speak, it is in whispers. This 
is not a place in which to talk, but to think. 

In our imaginations we re-people this vast structure 
with its eighty thousand spectators. When the great arena 
is flooded with water, thirty-six ships can play at battle, but 
naval battles do not interest this great assembly ; it must see 



104 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

blood flow. Before us is the podium, where the emperor 
and his vestal virgins s«.t. For them it was to save the lives 
of any they wished by turning down their thumbs, but how 
seldom they did it, and thousands of poor victims raised 
their pleading eyes to them in vain. In the centuries that 
have rolled by, this building has warred with many elements, 
and now the grass and ferns grow from the niches in the 
walls, and lizards, sleeping in the sunshine, are its only 
occupants. But it stands alone in its majesty and is still 
victor. 

Near by the Coliseum is Sudan's Fountain, where the 
gladiators bathed after their contests in the arena. Again 
we recall history which says, on great occasions this mam- 
moth building was fitted up with gold, silver and amber 
furniture, and we think perhaps Mrs. Caesar might have 
sent down from her back parlors on the hill, fifty or a 
hundred of those exquisite amber and ivory divans, inlaid 
with gems and silver filigree, and upholstered with the rich- 
est cloth from the looms of the far East. 

Speaking of amber reminds me of one morning when 
a young lady of our party came rushing in and asked me 
to go with her to see a love of a set of toilet articles, which 
she wanted for her room at home. We hastened to the 
shop fearing it might be sold. The shopkeeper handed 

105 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

down a beautiful satin-lined box containing in its folds, 
mirror, brush and comb, etc., set in amber. 

The young lady's eyes sparkled as she said, "Isn't that 
exquisite? Will not that look fine on my dresser? I need 
something nice when I have company, you know." 

I answered, "It is beautiful. What is the price?" 

"I have not enquired yet," she said ; "I thought I would 
have you see how you liked them first." 

So thoughtful of the shopkeeper ! The price was only 
four hundred and fifty marks ($90). She looked up at 
me with something of the same expression in her eyes, 1 
imagine, as those gladiators had in theirs when they turned 
their faces toward the vestal virgins. 

I turned my thumbs down, and said : "The articles 
are very reasonable, but you have so much to carry, had 
you not better wait until we get to London, and get some 
there?" And she thought she had. 

The other cities visited, we have not found just as we 
had pictured them in our minds, but in this city we have 
felt at home. When, from one of the seven hills, we have 
looked down on ruined temple, arch or forum, each has 
seemed strangely familiar, and when we caught our first 
glimpse of the Coliseum, it was as though we had been ac- 
customed to the sight all our lives. We have suddenly 

106 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

come upon people from our own state, and stood in the 
shadow of some triumphal arch and talked of commonplace 
things while the earth under our feet was layer upon layer 
deep with history and tragedy. I have long desired to visit 
Rome and view the ruins of her past splendor, and I shall 
go home and often long to visit her again. 



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PENCIL SKETCHES, 



CHAPTER XV. 

A Morning in Naples, Pompeii. 

Vesuvius smokes in sight, whose font of fire, 
Outgushing, drowned the cities on his steeps . 
And murmuring Naples, spire o'ertopping spire, 
Sits on the slope beyond where Virgil sleeps." 



T is after midnight when we arrive in Naples. A 
long carriage ride brings us to the Parker House, 
BM31 where we are ushered into most beautiful apart- 
ments. In the morning long before the others are awake, 
I start on a little tour of exploration. We had ascended 
so gradually in the night I did not realize at what height 
we were, but as I swing open the shutters of one of the win- 
dows, a most entrancing scene meets my eyes. The hotel 
is on a high elevation overlooking the city and beautiful 
bay, and in the distance is Vesuvius, its head amidst the 
fleecy clouds, which are tinged by the rays of the morning 
sun, and sending its curl of purple smoke straight up into 
the sky. I can hardly suppress a little scream of delight as 

1 08 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

I drink in the beauty and the pure, cool morning air until 
I am satisfied. Then turning to another window, I open it 
and step out onto a balcony perhaps twenty feet square, 
with a floor of blue and white tile, and bordered with potted 
plants. From here I look down into the gardens, filled with 
rare plants, and far down the hillside covered with vines 
and olive trees, among which are seen the bright tile roofs 
of the houses. From this balcony a long, narrow one leads 
back to a court in which grow, very luxuriantly, palms, 
oleanders and other tropical plants; and forming a back- 
ground to this is a ledge of rocks towering far above the 
hotel — all under the fair sky of this glorious morning. 

Naples is the most populous city in Italy, and disputes 
with Constantinople the claim of occupying the most beau- 
tiful site in Europe. Its buildings are very large and 
high, but can boast of little architectural beauty. Nowhere 
have we seen such splendid turnouts, and so many beautiful 
and exquisitely dressed ladies and children. The nurses, 
in their odd head-dresses, with wide, bright-colored rib- 
bons hanging to the ground, and the quaintly-dressed little 
sprites are very attractive to us. We notice, too, that the 
horses have no bits in their mouths and wear no check 
reins, but are guided by a little arrangement fastened to 
the nose. 



109 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

Here are to be seen, as in all Italian cities, large num- 
bers of goats. They run along the business streets, in 
their wise way, seeming to know just where to stop. Men 
and women come out with their dishes, and then and there 
a goat is milked, whether in front of a fashionable shop, 
or in some back alley. No grumbling here about watered 
milk or its being churned over the pavements and soured 
before being delivered to the customer. 

The National Museum is one of the finest in the world, 
and we just revel among its treasures, finding it verv help- 
ful in preparing us to see Pompeii intelligently. It contains 
a large part of the statuary, paintings, bronzes, mosiacs, 
etc., that have been excavated from Pompeii in the last 
century. Now they allow nothing to be taken away. 
Everything is left where found. 

This museum is also unique as a treasure house of 
Roman and early Italian antiquities. While the variety is 
great, the artistic value is even greater. In the halls of 
sculpture we are fascinated by the wonderful pieces of mar- 
ble, which have been preserved for so many centuries. The 
Farnese Hercules, the Farnese Bull, Amphion and Zethur 
binding Dirce to its horns and the Dancing Faun are among 
many which are particularly interesting. 

It is about one-half hour's ride from Naples to Pom- 
peii, on the cars, and there is more fun crowded into that 

no 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 
short time than one could imagine. A young student from 
a college in Rome, against our protestations, enters our 
compartment for dames at the last moment before starting. 
He can speak very little English, but what he lacks in 
speech he makes up in gestures. He is a whole circus in 
himself, and we have a merry time. We find that the 
people in European countries take up our language much 
more readily than we do theirs. After we had left the car 
at Pompeii and were some distance away, I heard some one 
speak my name very distinctly. I was startled at first to 
hear it spoken by some one away off here in this far away 
country, and turning around I saw that young man leaning 
out of the window. Pie threw my pencil to me, and waved 
us a good bye as the train pulled out from the station. 

Securing a guide, we start for the city of Pompeii. 
We walk along a narrow street, with oleander trees, laden 
with blossoms, on either side and forming an arch overhead. 
On our way we visit a small museum where we see many 
wonderful relics from the buried city. There is quite an 
array of eatables — loaves of bread, cake, fried cakes, prunes, 
nuts, etc., all as perfect in form though somewhat black- 
ened, as though they were of yesterday's baking, instead 
of one more than eighteen hundred years ago. Then there 
are those terrible reminders of that day of horrors, the casts 
of bodies found. The ashes settled around the victims. 

in 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

forming a cement. In time the flesh decayed leaving the 
bones lying in a perfect mould of the bodies. By filling this 
mould with liquid plaster they have the exact cast of the 
forms. The terrible contortions of the bodies and the look 
of agony on the faces, showed plainly the unspeakable suf- 
ferings experienced. 

At the entrance to the city, our guide points out the 
barns where the chariot "horses" were left, slaves being used 
instead of horses in the narrow streets of Pompeii. As the 
sea used to come into the streets at times, there are large 
stepping-stones at the crossings. The streets are paved 
with square blocks of volcanic rock, in which are deep 
grooves worn by the passing of the chariots for many cen- 
turies. The sidewalks are very narrow, and are raised to 
the level of the stepping-stones. The houses do not always 
open on the street, but into courts, some of which are still 
kept beautiful with flowers, and the statuary and garden 
tables are as pure white as though they just came from the 
sculptor's chisel. 

What marvels of beauty these miniature palaces must 
have been, with their exquisite mosaics and paintings, 
bronzes, costly vases and gems, and rich draperies, of 
Tyrian purple. Many of the old doorplates have been found, 
enabling the excavators to identify the homes of many. 
We enter the house of Glaucus, the wonderful paintings of 

112 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

which we saw in the Neapolitan Museum. Lord Lytton 
has most perfectly described this house in "The Last Days 
of Pompeii." We also visit the house of Pansa. 

It is with feelings of awe, we wander through these 
silent houses, which once resounded with laughter and song, 
on through the wine cellars, and the bake shops, where 
the baker left his bread in the oven and in his flight or 
destruction let it bake on down through the ages. In one 
house we imagine they were preparing for their aunts and 
cousins who were coming to attend the games in the after- 
noon, for in the oven they show us the remains of a suck- 
ing pig, which was being prepared for guests, who left with- 
out a word of apology, without even a wish to stay and en- 
joy the sports. There is one house in Pompeii that women 
are never allowed to enter, nor would they wish to do so ; 
for never has pen been bold enough to describe the 
obscene and degrading pictures which decorate its 
walls. We are tired, and sit down 
in the tragic theater and think. We 
wonder how old this city was at the 
time of that terrible day, the 24th 
of August, 79 A. D., which the 
younger Pliny describes so graphically. 

"By this time," Pliny says, "the murky darkness ' 
had so increased that one might have believed himself 

113 




PENCIL SKETCHES, 

abroad in a black and moonless night, or in a chamber where 
all the lights had been extinguished. On every hand was 
heard the complaint of women, the wailing of children and 
the cries of men. One called his father, another his son, 
and another his wife, and only by their voices could they 
know each other. Many in their terror begged that death 
would come and end their distress. Some implored the 
gods to succor them, and some believed that this night was 
the last, the eternal night which should engulf the universe. 
Even so it seemed to me, and I consoled myself for the com- 
ing death with the reflection: 'Behold the world is passing 
away !' " 

Here are stone steps in this theater worn thin by the 
feet of thousands of pleasure seekers, as they passed in to 
see the brilliant performance of the latest star in the theat- 
rical horizon, and passed out to take up the duties of the 
home, the shop, the court, or whatever life held for them. We 
have placed our hands in the deep groove worn in the flint- 
like stone at the fount where the tired, heated toilers placed 
theirs, as they bent over to drink. This was a very old town 
when Christ was born. But why do we stay here? These 
seats will never be filled again ; that stage will never re-echo 
the footfalls and voices of those actors, for that terrible 
day so many centuries ago was positively their last appear- 
ance. 

114 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

As we pass out through the gate of the silent city, we 
are told of the brave Roman soldier clad in complete ar- 
mor, who, true to his charge, stood unflinchingly at his post 
until his noble spirit was burned out, and when found, that 
soulless armor was keeping guard over a soulless city. 
On our return to the station we see coming on the highway 
what looks like a huge bundle of rags in the midst of a 
cloud of dust. As it comes nearer, we realize that it is 
a part of a human being, both legs and one arm being gone. 
As he wriggles himself towards us we shrink from his 
repulsive face, and his voice, which sounds more like an 
animal's when suffering pa in, than a human being's. He 
holds out his one hand, left for that purpose, I suppose, to 
receive alms, which we are glad to give, to be rid of the 
sight. If these Italian beggars' incomes are in proportion 
to their deformities this fellow must be a multi-millionaire. 



ii5 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 




CHAPTER XVI. 

Vesuvius, From Naples to Florence. 

E arise early this morning for we are to ascend 
the great Vesuvius today. It looks but a short 
distance from here. At half past seven we be- 
gin our long ride through the worst part of 
Naples. It has been said : "see Naples and die." I think one 
would want to, if he were obliged to see this part of it very 
long. The poverty, filth and squalor is frightful. Women and 
children with scarcely clothing enough to cover their naked- 
ness are contentedly sitting in their doorways as we 
pass. Trudging along at our side, perfectly naked, is 
a pretty little fellow pushing an old wheelbarrow. It is 
a common sight to see some of the gentler sex sitting flat 
on the pavement picking lice from each other's hair, and 
the men stretched out anywhere, asleep, with a stone for a 
pillow. All kinds of work is being done outside of these 
great blocks, on the sidewalk. Tailors sewing, small girls 
and boys knitting and the women even have their sewing 

116 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

machines out on the walk. While they work, or sleep, 
or search for vermin, as the case may be, others boil 
sweet corn in great kettles, over charcoal stoves. With a 
stick of bread in one hand and an ear of corn in the other, 
these people look perfectly contented and happy. Some of 
our party have been wishing for some corn, but when I 
offer to stop and buy some for them, they ignore my 
generosity. 

Beggars run beside our carriage. The blind, led by 
little children, the old, with distorted joints and haggard 
faces, until we almost sicken and cover our eyes to keep 
out the horrible sights. Here, as everywhere in Italy, are 
to be seen the sleek, well fed priests, in their rich vestments, 
on their errands of — mercy? We hope so. 

We are now beginning the ascent of the mountain, and 
soon come to where the road winds like a ribbon up its rocky 
and uneven surface. We are accompanied by music on 
either side. On the one, several small boys convert them- 
selves into cart-wheels and roll along by our side, even if 
the road is steep, all the time singing their weird songs. 
Every time they assume an upright position, with a grace- 
ful gesture they hold out their hands for pennies. We 
throw some to them and laugh to see the scramble to get 
the coins. On the other side walk two men, playing on 



117 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

instruments, and although their music is good, somehow 
they do not arouse our sympathies. 

We ride for hours through fig and olive orchards, 
past large tracts of lava-covered fields, stopping' occa- 
sionally for the horses to rest, and for peddlers to sell us 
trinkets made of the lava from great Vesuvius. The 
buildings of Naples are growing more and more indistinct, 
but we can still discern the castle St. Elmo, on the summit. 
At noon we reach the railroad station. As we see a car 
creeping up the mountain side, almost perpendicular, we 
realize it is a time for nerve. Encouraging each other, we 
step into the car and begin the ascent. We experience the 
sensation, I imagine, one would if he were at the end of a 
vast pendulum suspended from the very heavens. We 
grow brave, and look down. Everything seems inverted ; 
the sea looks like the sky and the sail boats like sea gulls. 
We meet a car coming down, and know we are half 
way up. In what seems an age, time to live over a whole 
life, our car grates against the platform and we step on 
terra firma. 

But where is the top, the crater we came to see? We 
are informed that it is about twenty minutes walk higher 
up. Can't go without a guide. The guide is paid and 
we begin the climb, going in a zigzag path and sinking into 
the ashes and lava to our shoe tops at every step. 

118 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

After climbing for a long time we are told by our 
guide and his followers that we are just half way, and they 
ask, "Would you have a chair, and be carried?" "Would 
you have a strap, and be pulled up?" 

We prefer, if our necks are to be broken, to have a 
hand in the operation ourselves, so we plow along, not 
daring to look back ; not for fear of turning into a pillar of 
salt, but a roly-poly. Passing holes where sulphurous 
smoke is pouring out, for the volcano is not entirely quiet 
now, climbing over huge blocks of lava, we stand at last 
by the mouth of the crater and look down into its smoky 
depths. At first we are almost suffocated by the sulphur- 
ous smoke, but growing accustomed to it, we see in this 
great chasm a minature world, with its mountains and val- 
leys, fields and rivers, and all surrounded by a great moat. 
The sun shining through the veil of smoke imparts a sub- 
dued, but beautiful coloring to the sulphur-coated lava. 
The crater is much larger than I had expected to see. It 
looks to be a full quarter of a mile in diameter. Now 
we realize how it could have vomited up the thousands of 
acres of lava and rocks we passed on our way up. 

"Keep, O, Traveler ! a firm and powerful 
Hand on your heart now. 
Mine well nigh slipped from my hold, 
As I stood here trembling with rapture." 

119 




PENCIL SKETCHES, 

The view of the surrounding country and sea is mag- 
nificent. Pompeii and Herculaneum seem, from this great 
height, to lie just at the foot of the mountain. This is one 
of the places where one desires to go, but fears to, is glad 
he has been, but never wants to go again. 

While ascending the mountain, after the 
cart-wheel boys and the musicians had left us, 
there still walked along by the side of the carriage 
fy, a bare-footed lad of about twelve years of age. 
His one suspender held up a pair of patched, 
though clean, trowsers, and he wore an old straw hat which 
could boast of only a part of its brim. Supposing him to 
be following us for the same purpose the others had, one of 
the party motioned for him to go back. 

He turned his bright, honest face to us and said, in 
the most musical voice I ever heard, "I go to the stazeone" 
(station) "to work, madam, to care for the horses, madam." 
He walked beside us for a little distance and then 
darted into some side path, taking a short cut to a place 
higher up the mountain where we found him waiting. When 
we reached the station, he watered the horses, sponging out 
their mouths and pouring water on their heads, making 



1 20 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

himself useful in many ways. Now, as we descend the 
mountain, he rides on the back of the carriage and is a 
valuable guide. Though his vocabulary is limited he 
speaks very good English, his only teachers having been 
tourists who were interested in him and helped him to learn 
a few words, as we are doing to-day. His knowledge of 
the history of Vesuvius and its surroundings is remarkable. 
He tells us the date and points out the lava of the different 
eruptions, and brings us pumice stone and flowers to carry 
home with us. He tells us he studies morning and evening 
and goes up the mountain during the day. He gets a 
little money for work, and the tourists give him some. His 
grace and politeness would open the closest purse, I am 
sure. 

Farther down the mountain, among the olive groves, 
we come to a group of cottages, with children playing 
about. One tiny little sprite leaves her playmates and runs 
by our side, her little brown hand held out for pennies and 
her big brown eyes looking so wishfully up in our faces. 
This appeal is more than we can withstand and we begin 
to search for small coins, when our little guide tells us that 
her mother called to her and said she must not ask for 
money. But I shall always feel a twinge at my heart 

121 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 




h'kurf i I 



whenever I ihink of that cunning little figure trudging 
back home empty-handed, heavy-hearted, feeling, I have no 
doubt, as one does on a return trip 
from selling tickets for a church sup- 
per. Suddenly the boy jumps from 
the carriage and gathers his hands 
full of stones, and a few feet from 
the roadside as fierce a battle takes 
place as I ever care to see. An 
immense snake lies coiled up in the grass, but as 
he spies the lad he raises his head several feet and 
darts at him. But the boy is prepared and jumps to one 
side, then a volley of stones are thrown, but with little effect. 
Again the snake's head is raised and with forked tongue 
distended, he aims another blow at his antagonist which the 
boy just escapes, and so the battle goes on, the snake strik- 
ing at the boy and the boy hurling stones and such a torrent 
of Italian epithets at him, that we laugh one moment and 
are startled with fear the next. Finally, a sharp stone 
well aimed, cuts an ugly gash in the snake's body which 
makes him all the more furious. We cheer the boy 
but it is almost impossible for him to hit the snake, so 
rapidly does he coil and strike. At last he runs to the 
carriage and seizes the whip and as the snake raises his head 



22 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 
the long lash of the cow hide coils around his body. It is 
almost pitiful to see him writhe in agony and fight for his 
life, but soon he succumbs and his head is crushed with a 
stone. 

With the handle of the whip our little victor lifts and 
drags the reptile to the carriage, and the driver hangs him 
over the dashboard and there he hangs perfectly limp, 
except the end of his tail, which will wiggle back and forth 
until the sun goes down. That fact was a great mystery 
to me when a child, and is still the same. Perhaps it is 
a way of saying "I told you so," handed down from the 
Garden of Eden. The boy, with scarcely breath enough 
left to thank us for our small contribution and to bid us 
good-bye as he leaves us to go to his home, is well satisfied 
with his day's work, no doubt ; for his trophy is carried to 
Naples, from whence he will be sent a reward. This is the 
way at least one little Italian boy is earning his education. 

We enjoy the ride back to Naples, where we refresh 
ourselves and rest a few hours. To-night we turn our 
faces homeward. We start for Florence, stopping several 
hours at Rome. The ride is pleasant though uneventful, 
and at nine o'clock in the evening of the following day we 
arrive in the historic city of Florence, and are greeted by a 
most magnificent concert in the piazza in front of our 
hotel. But long before the music ceases, we are in 
dreamland. 

123 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 




CHAPTER XVII. 

Florence, Across the Apennines, A night in Venice. 

HAT a happy time we have here in Florence, 
peering into these little shops where they carve 
such dainty and beautiful things in wood, ivory, 
and marble, and make those wonderful mosaics 
of intricate designs worked out with bits of glass or marble 
no larger than a mustard seed. No wonder the workmen's 
sight fails them in only a few years. We feel that we 
can look, to our heart's content. We are troubling no one ; 
for all that they have in their shops is spread out before you 
with the prices marked in plain terms ; and they don't 
molest you with, "What can I do for you? Is there any- 
thing I can show you to-day?" 

But here we are in the Piazza della Signoria, in the 
midst of Florentine business and political life. In the 
center of this square stands the finest monument in the 
city, that of Cosimo I. Here, also, Savonarola, or "the 
Frate," as he was called in Florence, suffered martyrdom 

124 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

for his denunciations of the immoral lives of its citizens. 
Here he was dragged to prison, torture and execution. On 
one side of the piazza is the palace of state, on another, the 
splendid loggia, or porch, built as a protection for the prior 
during the elections. From this loggia the decrees of the 
government were proclaimed to the people, who gathered 
in the piazza at the sound of the bell, which still hangs in 
the tower. Palazza Vecchio Steps, in front, lead to a plat- 
form which is covered by a vaulted roof. The three large 
arches resting on the solid but light Corinthian-capped 
columns, and adorned with original statues from some of 
the best sculptors the world has ever produced, forms a 
structure that the citizens of Florence may well be proud of. 

Leaving this grandeur we now visit a most enchanting 
little spot called Michael Angelo's Grotto, in the center of 
which fountains throw their silvery spray into beds of 
ferns. The walls are entirely covered with carvings in 
stone, of shepherds and sheep, trees and flowers, and so 
intricate and perfect is the work that one feels that it is a 
fitting and appropriate monument to that great man. who 
was a marvel in painting, architecture and sculpture. 
This is the only monument dedicated to his memory we 
have seen. His tomb in Rome is very simple. 

The Petti Art Gallery, though small when compared 
with many in Europe, is considered ore of the best col- 

125 




PENCIL SKETCHES, 

lections in the world. There are only five hundred paint- 
ings, but nowhere else are so many original masterpieces 
collected in one place. A half length portrait of our 
Savior, by Tozione ; The Assumption, by Andrea del Sarto ; 
Madonna del Granduca, by Raphael ; Cleopatra, by Guido 
Reni, were some which particularly appealed to us. 
Raphael's portrait of Leo X. and his cardinals is very fine ; 
no painter has produced or ever will produce anything 
better. We are told this by our guide. We would not 
presume to advance such a statement on our own author- 
ity. We walk through the long gallery across the Arno 
river, hung with hundreds of portraits of the Medicis 
family, to the Ufnzi Gallery. 

The great cathedral of Florence is most magnificent, 
and, like many another in Italy, was so long building 
that several architects did their work and passed away 
before it was completed. It is Gothic in style, the narrow 
windows being surrounded by the finest carvings imagina- 
ble. The four side doors are splendid monuments of the 
ornamental sculpture of different ages. Entering the 
building one is struck with the plainness, the majestic sim- 
plicity ; the feeling being that he is in the house of God and 
not in a great museum. 



126 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

Pope Pius IX. said, "In St. Peter's, man thinks; in 
Santa Marie del Fiore, man prays." 

The Campanile, or bell tower, designed by Giotto, is 
incrusted with three kinds of marble. The red marble of 
Perugia, green serpentine, and white marble. These colors 
are varied by the introduction of elaborate patterns inlaid 
in delicate marble mosaic, in every available space, while- 
glass mosaic is introduced behind sculpture to make the 
figures stand out more distinctly. This is said to be the 
most carefully wrought out work of its kind in all Europe. 

Before leaving Florence, we take a drive about the 
city. The palaces, constructed of rough hewn stone, give 
it a peculiar character differing from other European 
cities. The river Arno is crossed by six bridges, two 
being suspension and four built of stone. The Jewelers' 
Bridge retains its ancient form and is still lined on either 
side by goldsmiths' shops. Another is adorned with 
statues, and is remarkable for the perfect symmetry of its 
arches. We cannot leave Florence without a piece of her 
marble, but after making our small purchases, we prepare 
to depart for Venice. 

I have heard it said that the ride from Florence to Venice 
is the most disagreeable one in all Europe, and after making 
the trip I have not the least reason to dispute the assertion. 

127 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

There are forty-eight tunnels, varying in length, the longest 
one being about nine miles in extent. These we have to 
pass through before the Apennines are crossed. It is like 
being shut up in a box without light or air until nearly 
suffocated, and then being ushered into the sunniest and 
most exhilarating air and charming mountain scenery one 
can imagine, only to be again plunged into darkness and 
stifling heat; which latter the engine belches forth as it 
pants and labors to draw its load up the steep ascent. 

But each glimpse we get of the beautiful homes ana 
farms — for these mountains are terraced to the very tops — ■ 
is like the dainty morsel taken after the bitter pill. At last 
we reach the summit of the Apennines. Brakes are ad- 
justed — there is no use for steam — and we begin a long 
coast down the opposite side, the cataracts, villages, herds 
of goats, and groups of merry children flying past us like 
birds on the wing. Late in the afternoon we arrive at a 
station and an unusual condition meets us. There is not a 
man, woman or child to be seen with the usual eatables or 
drinkables. 

We are nearly famished, and the minister leaves the 
car saying, "I will see what I can find." 

One of the party calls after him, "Bring anything that 
is wet." 



128 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

Just as the car starts, he jumps aboard with one lone 
little innocent-looking straw-covered bottle in his hand, say- 
ing, "This is all I could find." 

It is a bottle of Florenza wine. This is the first time 
we have had the shadow of an excuse for partaking of the 
wine of this country ; as we have always found good water 
and plenty of ice, excepting on the cars. There was not 
enough in that little bottle hardly to moisten our throats, 
much less to make habitual drunkards of us all ; but to ease 
our consciences, this conversation takes place : 

The minister — Now, if I were at home, I would not 
do this ; not that I think it would harm me, but for the sake 
of the example. 

One of the party — No, indeed, nor I either. 

The minister — I know there in Paris it would have 
been very much better for me to have drank wine than 
water, but I would not do it, for the same reason. 

One of the party — Yes, I thought, myself, I should 
be obliged to take a little wine as a tonic, in order to be able 
to endure the sight-seeing, but I got along very nicely with- 
out it. 

So the little bottle is emptied and put away, to be kept 
as a souvenir. The rest of the journey is without interest, 
and at last we see the lights of Venice. 



129 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

As we come out from the station we behold a fairy 
picture. Thousands of lights are reflected in the dark 
waters, and the gondolas are crowding up to the marble 
steps like so many graceful swans. We step into one, 
and with a few dips of the oar we are gliding quietly be- 
tween high buildings, turning sharp angles with nicety and 
precision, just missing boats or some building by a hair's 
breadth. We can but admire the skill of the gondolier. 
But this silently slipping through these watery streets at 
night, seems weird and unreal, and I pinch myself to be 
assured I am really not dreaming. But all too soon, our 
gondola stops before the Hotel Victoria, a beautiful and 
well-equipped house, and we go up into the sky to sleep. 
Veiva would say, to be tortured, to be roasted alive and then 
devoured by thousands of hungry mosquitoes. She would 
say the Roman flea is just a pleasing pastime when com- 
pared with these Venetian pests. 

I awake in the early twilight and look across Veiva's 
bed at the rosy tints of the morning sky. There is a living, 
moving halo over her head from which little particles 
dart down upon her face and hands in the most playful and 
affectionate way, and as she beats the air ana groans, this 



130 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

halo moves higher up ; but it always returns, swaying and 
balancing itself into place again. 

''Fair insect that, with thread-like legs spread out, 
And blood-extracting bill and filmy wing, 
Does murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about, 
In pitiless ears full many a plaintive thing, 
And tell how little our large veins would bleed, 
Would we but yield them to thy bitter need." 



131 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 



CHAPTER XVIII. 
Shops, Doge's Palack, St. Mark's. 




SIDE door of the Victoria leads mto one of the 
little streets of Venice, crowded with shops; 
and these shops are equally crowded with every 
conceivable article. Nowhere have we seen 
such rich and beautiful laces. The factory is nearby, 
where hundreds of women spend their lives working out 
these exquisite designs. Of course, we visit the glass 
works, where we enjoy seeing those rare and delicate 
colored vases fashioned, and are entertained and instructed 
some time in their p-reat storerooms, not only looking at the 
glass, but the wonderful carvings in wood. Here orders 
are filled and sent to all parts of the world. 

After spending some time in these places we call a 
scow and proceed to the Doge's Palace, near the Piazza 
San Marco. Nothing can be finer than the inner facade 
of the east wing of this palace. The Giants' Staircase 
received its name from the colossal statues of Mars and 

132 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

Neptune, finished in 1566. On the landing at its head, the 
doges were crowned in ancient times. Our attention is 
called to two holes in the wall. These are where the lions' 
mouths had been ; where if any one desired to be rid of an 
enemy or rival, or even a friend, he could thrust his accusa- 
tion down the lion's mouth, and straightway the Council 
of Three, elected secretly by the Council of Ten and known 
by them only, would pass judgment, and the doomed 
victim, though, perhaps, innocent, passed over the Bridge of 
Sighs, never to be seen or heard from more. 

We visit the hall of the Council of Ten, splendidly 
decorated with magnificent paintings, also the hall of the 
Council of Three, where they met at midnight, dressed in 
their scarlet robes, to enact deeds too fiendish to be witnessed 
by God's sunlight. Passing along a corridor illustrated by 
Tintoretto, we make our exit through a massive door, and 
descend a dark and narrow stairway into the terrible dun- 
geons. Some have beds in them, consisting of slabs of 
stone, others nothing but the four walls and stone floors. 
If these walls could speak, what tales they could tell of lin- 
gering sufferings and despair. Then we go up and across 
the Bridge of Sighs, where the condemned passed for 
execution. In a narrow passage our guide shows us the 
holes in the walls where the guillotine was placed for secret 

133 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 




V 



executions, and we think how many were the poor victims 
who passed from here into eternity without even the sem- 
blance of a trial. 

Leaving these horrors, we seek 
respite by visiting St. Mark's. This 
church was founded in the ninth cen- 
tury. It is Byzantine in architecture, 
and is surmounted by five domes. 
The ground plan is in the form of a 
Greek cross. Its decorations are com- 
posed of the richest mosaics, panels 
and statuary from different countries, 
and there are at least five hundred beautiful marble col- 
umns. On the gallery, above the central door, are the four 
bronze horses said to have decorated Trojan's triumphal 
arch at Rome. These horses had been carried from one 
city to another by conquerors, but were at last restored to 
Venice in 1816, and placed where they now are. And here 
they ought to remain; for, surely, if Venice cannot have 
the real article, she should have, at least, the semblance. 
Hundreds of her people have never seen a horse, save these 
bronze ones. 

The high altar stands under a canopy of verd-antique 
supported by four columns of Greek marble, remarkable 



134 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

for the workmanship of the numerous scenes deeply sculp- 
tured on them. Behind the altar, which is said to contain 
the bones of St. Mark, is the celebrated Pala d'ora, a rich 
altar-piece of gold and silver plate, ornamented with gems, 
enamels and cameos ; a curious and splendid specimen of 
art. Still back of this are more of the alabaster spiral 
columns from Solomon's Temple. 

Our eyes are tired, our minds can grasp no more ; so we 
go out into St. Mark's Square and watch the pigeons, which 
seem numberless. People buy corn at the little stalls and 
feed them, while they alight on one's head, hands, or any- 
where they can cling. It was an ancient custom, on Easter 
day to set free from the gallery of St. Mark's, a number of 
small birds and pigeons. These taking refuge in the 
cornices around the square, remained there, and thence 
spread all over Venice. 

St. Mark's Square is very large and beautiful, and is 
surrounded by most magnificent buildings. As the 
wonderful clock in the tower near St. Mark's tells the hour, 
two large bronze figures of men on an opposite building 
swing ponderous hammers, striking the immense bell, which 
is between them. We lunch to-day at Florian's handsome 
cafe, which has not been closed, day or night, for more than 
three hundred years. Palms and flowers are everywhere, 
and we feel that we are in a perfect fairy bower. 

135 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 



CHAPTER XIX. 
A Ride: on the Grand Canal. 




ROM the deck of one of the small steamers which 
ply on the Grand Canal, we have a fine view of 
the stately old palaces of Venice. I feel that I 
want to be alone, and think and dream. For- 
tunately I secure a seat in the bow of the boat, and now be- 
gins a panorama which Hopkinson Smith has not exagger- 
ated in his various paintings; neither could any painter do 
so. 

For beauty of domestic architecture, it is said Venice 
ranks before any other city in the world. The most beau- 
tiful palaces from as early as the eleventh century still exist, 
and externally are in a very perfect state of preservation. 
The coloring is unique, as many of the palaces are faced 
with beautifully colored oriental marbles and enriched with 
bands and panels of delicate carvings. We pass the mag- 
nificent church Madona della Salute, built of white marble 

136 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 
and heavily decorated with statuary, and we try to imagine 
the appearance of this canal on Sabbath morning, all alive 
with the gondolas of the wealthy, wtfi their richly dressed 
occupants on their way to worship. 

Farther on we come to a palace on the front of which 
is an immense picture in glass mosiacs, with a background 
covering nearly the whole front, of gold mosiac. The 
bright coloring of the draperies not only at the windows, but 
on balconies, together with flowers and vines, which over- 
hang the water, enlivened by daintily dressed ladies and 
children, and all reflected back by the 
water, complete a picture which once 
seen can never be forgotten. 

A gondola rocks and tilts in 
front of a stately palace, and as a 
fairy-like creature trips down the 
steps and settles herself among the 
silken cushions and adjusts the heavy lace curtains, 
our imagination again comes to our aid and we hear her 
say to her gondolier: "Down past the Rialto to the 
shops near St. Mark's." Where she flits from one 
shop to another, buying a piece of silk here, and a bit of 
lace there, and a few strings of those lovely Roman pearls 
at another place. So she goes on having loads of goods 
pulled down for her inspection. Her coachman is not 

137 




PENCIL SKETCHES, 

obliged to drive his restless steeds up and down the avenue 
for hours ; but the soothing- motion of his boat lulls him to 
sleep and he dreams of his sweetheart who, in the great 
hall of the palace he left, in her dainty cap and frills is 
kept busy receiving parcels from a veritable fleet of scows. 

We like to think of these things, for they remind us of 
home Haven't we passed right by a Reubens, Titian or 
Tintoretto, to pat the great cat that lay curled up in one of 
the cathedral chairs, just because it looked like home? 

When one dines at the Victoria, he has his choice of 
sitting out on the great open veranda among the flowers, 
or in the dining hall, whose walls and ceiling are draped 
with some airy material which, in color, harmonizes with 
the many tints of the great and elaborate chandeliers of 
Venetian glass. The same kind of glass sparkles on the 
tables and buffets ; and when they serve us with the minia- 
ture mountains of colored gelatine, capped with snowy whip- 
ped cream, it seems almost as though we were to be fed with 
the same material. 

We are refreshed, and prepare to leave Venice, but 
we must have a ride on the Grand Canal when all is gay. 
So we arrange for a gondola, there being ample time before 
our train leaves. 



133 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 




CHAPTER XX 

An Evening in a Gondola. 

HO does not appreciate, when leaving a place 
where he has had 'a happy time, having the 
whole household come to the door and out on 
the steps, to see him off and wish him God- 
speed? They do that in this country. So all these people 
who have served us in any way, whether by word, look 
or deed, are interested in us as we are leaving, and they 
line themselves up along the corridor and follow us to 
the door. Our gondola is ready, we step in and start, but 
stop ; we have forgotten the little bell boy, who sits perched 
on the top step, looking, in his scarlet and gilt livery, not 
much larger than a big cock robin. A coin is thrown, but 
it misses its mark and drops into the water. A moment's 
flutter, a splash, and he holds it up and smiles and bows 
as gracefully as a circusman when he has performed some 
daring feat. 

Our gondolier is in evening attire, with snowy trowsers 
and blouse, with scarlet silk collar and sash, the latter with 



139 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

heavy gilt fringe across the ends and tied in a most artistic 
way. The gondola is about thirtv feet long, the bow and 
stern curving up out of the water. The gondolier stands 
a. on the stern, and the graceful 

- r :M^\ swaying of his body as he noise- 

"fffsfe* l^ssly P ue s his one oar, seen against 




j the twilight sky, or dark water, 
forms a picture that will long re- 
main in memory's gallery. 
Now, in the mellow, golden twilight, we see the Venice 
of old. The musty, dingy palaces, with their broken statues, 
are transformed, and she looks as proud and autocratic as 
when her ships controlled the seas and her commerce was 
looked upon with envy by other nations. Phantoms of the 
past seem to lurk in and flit through every watery high- 
way, and we dream that we are living in the golden days 
of her old magnificence. 

From a high balcony of a palace comes a flood of light 
and such a voice as one hears but seldom in a lifetime, so 
powerful, yet so pure and liquid. And as we glide farther 
away, we hear another voice singing a most difficult selec- 
tion and soon a mass of colored lanterns appears in the middle 
of the canal, where, upon a flat-boat large enough for singers, 
piano and orchestra, a prima donna is charming an audience, 



140 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

seated in their unstable boxes, but with the whole star-lit 
heavens for a canopy. Now from the distance a man's 
voice mingles and blends with hers, and as their voices 
rise and fall, it seems as though the very air throbs and vi- 
brates with the cadence, and we think, surely this is an 
enchanted place! From the sublime to the ridiculous, we 
are suddenly brought down. The bathers come down the 
marble steps and plunge into the canal, one after another, 
until, perhaps, fifteen or twenty black heads are seen above 
the water. They swim very rapidly, keeping up with our 
boat for a time, singing some Italian melody. As we glide 
through this broad avenue with its watery lawns, the words 
of Longfellow are recalled to mind : 

"White swan of cities, slumbering in thy nest, 

So wonderfully built among the reeds of the lagoon 

That fences thee and feeds, so sayest thy old historians 

and their guests, 
White' water lily, cradled and caressed by ocean streams, 
And from the silt and weeds lifting their golden filia- 

ments and seeds, 
Thy sun illuminated spire, thy crown and crest ! 
White phantom city, whose untrodden streets are rivers 
And whose pavements are the shifting shadows of pal- 
aces and strips of sky, 
I wait to see thee vanish like the fleet seen in mirage 
Or towers of cloud uplifting in air their unsubstantial 
masonry.'' 

But all things must come to an end. Our boat grates 
on the steps of the station and we say good night and good 
bye to Venice. 

141 



PENCIL SKETCHES. 




CHAPTER XXL 

Milan Cathedral, Lombardy and the Alps. 

E arrive in Milan in the early morning and find 
that by staying over trains we can have ample 
time to visit the great Duomo. The other mem- 
bers of our party, not caring to visit the cathe- 
dral, leave for Lucerne. After disposing of 
our baggage, Veiva and I take a tram car and ride to 
the cathedral, which is situated in the center of the 
town. In front of it is the largest square Milan can 
boast of, Piazza del Duomo, surrounded by quite modern- 
looking buildings. Among them are the royal and arch- 
bishop's palaces. This square contains some very fine 
monuments, but we have eyes only for this wonderful struc- 
ture, the cathedral, with its hundreds of spires piercing the 
morning sky. In the sunshine, every spire is tipped with 
a statue of gold, and besides, thousands of statues are look- 
ing out from openings in these hollow steeples. 

In the front of the Dasilica are five great doors, the 
central one being surrounded by elaborate carvings in 

142 



Can it be that I am dreaming? 

Or do I now behold 

This mighty marble giant, 

Bathed in the purest gold ? 

Or is it some fairy vision 

That will vanish from my sight? 

Or spars of a fleet cf phantom ships 

As seen in the clouds at night ? 




Mf LAN CA THE ORAL. 



It may be a vision of splendor. 
To help me to understand 
The words of my Lord and Master 
When He dwelt upon the land. 
And talked with Mis disciples 
Of the mansions He'd prepare: 
Mansions transcendent in splendor, 
So bright is the glory there. 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

marble. As we gaze at this great marble giant, so mam- 
moth, yet so graceful in every outline, we are charmed 
by its beauty and awed by its grandeur. Although it is 
not seven o'clock in the morning, the doors are open. We 
go inside and wander about among its tombs. To the right 
of the entrance is the tomb of Archbishop Heribert, the 
champion of Milanese liberty, and next to that is 
the tomb of Otho Visconti, founder of that fam- 
ily as a reigning house. This cathedral was begun under 
Gian Galeazzo Visconti, in 1386, and is built of marble 
from the quarries he donated for that purpose. New stat- 
ues are constantly being added. The roof is supported by 
fifty-two columns with canopied niches for statues instead 
of capitals. The windows contain brilliantly painted glass, 
casting a rich but subdued tone over every object. There 
are also choice paintings and exquisite mosaics. 

Under the dome in a crypt, lies the embalmed body 
of Saint Carlo Borromeo, worshiped for his good deeds 
during the great famine and plague of 1579. The body is 
in a silver sarcophagus faced with rock crystal as trans- 
parent as air. There are a few hundred people away down 
the main nave near an altar, and they look like small child- 
ren, so great is the distance. There are also people passing 
through a large door at one side, and we make our way 



143 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

there and follow the crowd down a broad and beautiful 
staircase into the crypt of the church. At first we 
can only go down a few steps. We are very im- 
polite, and crowd and elbow our way a little farther, for 
we think these people can see this church any Sabbath 
morning, but this is our first and possibly our only oppor- 
tunity, so we crowd a little farther until we look down on 
the vast throng filling this great room to its utmost capaci- 
ty. Then we gaze at the ceiling and walls, and as far 
as the eye can penetrate there is one mass of sculptured 
marble, representing fruits, flowers and vines, so perfect 
and so graceful that one ceases to wonder that it has taken 
centuries to give birth to this wonderful and beautiful struc- 
ture. By the way, if we see people crowding and pushing, 
and insisting, we know that they are from America ; for the 
people of these countries take plenty of time for everything. 
We learn that there is a funeral ceremony taking place, 
and conjecture it must be some prominent person, to call 
forth such a multitude as is here gathered. 

Returning to the Piazza del Duomo, we look long and 
admiringly again at the exterior of this marvelous building, 
for never will we see anything, built by human hands, more 
beautiful. Someone has very appropriately said: "It is 
an anthem sung in stone, a poem wrought in marble." 



144 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

We return to the station, our ride, sight-seeing and 
all having cost us just two cents apiece. While that funeral 
was, without doubt, a misfortune to the people of Milan, 
it was a source of economy to us. We were neglected and 
left to wander about the church and enjoy its magnificence 
without even being given the opportunity to contribute to 
its maintenance, but, respecting their sorrow, we freely for- 
gave the slight. 

We procure a nice luncheon to take on the train, and 
return for our baggage, consisting of two suit cases besides 
other packages. We are charged by the baggagemaster 
the enormous sum of five centimes, (one cent). I gave 
him five times that amount, and if I had increased it ten 
fold, he might have felt, for once in his life, like an Amer- 
can. And yet tourists and guide books tell us that this is 
a country of thieves, robbers and extortionists. 

The lake district of Italy, lying between the glaciers 
of the high Alps and the sunny plains of Lombardy, is a 
region of sunshine, where the vegetation of the chilly 
North and luxuriant South meet and mingle. As we 
pass, all too rapidly, through this charming garden, we look 
with delight into the glassy waters of these beautiful lakes, 
reflecting the smiling blue skies, all of which is soon to be 
supplanted by frowning chasms, precipitous heights and 



145 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

glimpses of glaciers. Wild waterfalls descend from dizzy 
heights, being converted into mist before reaching the val- 
ley below and looking like a sheer veil of illusion. 

Here and there, we see villages nestling on the moun- 
tain's side, and roads which look as though coils of ribbon 
unloosed were thrown to shape themselves as they may. At 
a small station, Swiss peasants come aboard the train with 
hands and baskets filled with flowers and mountain 
strawberries, still wet with the morning dew and rich with 
fragrance. They tell us by gestures that they gathered 
them high up on the mountain side, and kindly contribute 
to our collection of specimens. 

Farther on, Altdorf, away among the mountains, is 
pointed out to us as the birthplace of William Tell. At 
Altdorf the hat was raised upon the pole, and the famous 
arrow was shot from the cross-bow, the story of which will 
be told by all future generations ; and this legend is William 
Tell's best monument. After a charming ride of six hours 
from Milan, over and through the very heart of the moun- 
tains of the St. Gotthard road, we arrive at Fluelen. This 
town is full of life and bustle. Steamers are coming and 
going every hour, bringing and taking away passengers, 
from all nations. We go aboard one of these boats and 
start for Lucerne. 

146 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

Lucerne — The Lake and City. 

"Yonder lies 
The Lake of the Four Forest Town, apparelled 
In light; and lingering like a village maiden, 
Hid in the bosom of her native mountains, 
Then pouring all her life into another's, 
Changing her name and being." 

— Longfellozc. 

HREE hours of unalloyed bliss ! three hours to 
commune with nature, God's handiwork ot 
majesty and grandeur, as we glide over the trans- 
parent waters of Lake Lucerne. And whether 
our eyes rest on this liquid mirror, as bright as burnished 
silver, or on the landscape, we see the grand old monarchs 
with snowy heads looking down over the tops of their smal- 
ler companions, which are robed from head to foot in the 
brighest of emerald verdure, and are dotted here and there 
with the most artistic homes we have yet seen, the Swiss 
chalets. The white buildings of the villages nestling at 



147 




PENCIL SKETCHES, 

the feet of the mountains, gleam in the sunlight, reminding 
one of nests that are cradled and protected by the forest 
trees. 

After feasting our eyes on this grandeur, we turn 
our attention, for a time at least, to those about us. Several 
of the peasants on board are in holiday attire, which is very 
beautiful and picturesque, and a group of them charm and 
entertain us with their songs. All too soon we see the 
towers and pointed turrets of Lucerne, between Rigi and 
Pilatus. These mountains look like two mighty sentinels 
keeping guard over this lovely siren, who smiles and beck- 
ons as she plays the coquette with her own image, reflected 
from the crystal waters of the lake. 

Had we come upon this scene four hundred years ago, 
when Lucerne was called the "wooden stork," town, be- 
cause those birds made their nests on the roofs of the 
houses, which were built of wood and straw, what a dif- 
ferent picture we would have seen. Then we could have 
walked through the new covered bridge, Kapellbrucke, 
which crosses the river Reuss diagonally, as this bridge 
was built only one hundred and sixty-eight years before. 
The one hundred and twenty-one triangular paintings, 
placed at regular intervals beneath the roof, celebrating 
the heroic deeds of the old Switzers, were then bright with 

148 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

fresh paint from the artist's brush, but today they are dim 
and faded. In the middle of this bridge stands the octagon- 
al tower Wassertrum. It was used as a treasure house 
and a prison in those ancient days. It also is said to have 
contained the torture chamber. The municipal archives 
are now preserved here. 

As we saunter through this long bridge, we are its 
only occupants, for now the splendid new Seebrucke bridge 
is the greater attraction for the pedestrian. The old wood 
and straw buildings are replaced by magnificent edifices, 
grand hotels and palatial residences of marble. Along the 
Reuss is the Lucerne that has experienced the vicissitudes 
of the centuries. The wooden bridge and the Musegg, 
surmounted by their nine gray towers, give the town an 
antique appearance despite the modern and fine buildings. 

Crossing the Seebrucke we reach the Quay with its 
shady avenues. This is the famous promenade of the 
fashionable visitors of Lucerne, and especially toward even- 
ing it presents an exceedingly gay appearance. For here 
is mingled the wealth, culture and aristocracy of not only 
Europe, but America as well. While these things delight 
us, our eyes are ever returning to the long line of snowy 
peaks stretching away on either side of the lake. Although 
Lucerne is so charming and beautiful, there are days at a 

149 



PENCIL SKETCHES. 

time when the mountains are veiled in mist and tourists find 
only disappointment if they ascend their dizzy heights. 

We go on board the boat bound for Mount Rigi, but 
the threatening sky induces us to return to the town, and 
in the shops of Alpenstrasse during a very severe storm, 
we revel among the wonderful carvings in wood and ivory 
with which they are filled. And as if to compensate us for 
our disappointment in not being able to visit the Rigi, we 
are directed to Meyers Diorama of Alpine views. Enter- 
ing this panorama, we seem to be suddenly transported 
to the summit of the Rigi, or Pilatus. We look down the 
long slopes of the mountain on which we seem to stand and 
away on to the distant peaks and glaciers, and cannot tell 
where the natural leaves off and the artificial begins. To 
those who have not seen a sunset from either of these moun- 
tains, this counterfeit is so real that he will always carry 
with him the impression that he has actually stood on the 
mountain top and watched the sun descend, dyeing every 
cloud and mountain peak with crimson and gold. 

Not very far from this building is the beautiful garden 
of the Lion of Lucerne, in which grow magnificent trees 
and flowers. There is a crystal sheet of water back of 
which a rock rises perpendicularly sixty feet high. In 
a dark recess lies the wounded lion defending, even in death, 



150 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

the shield and golden lilies. This colossal masterpiece 
was modeled by Thorwaldsen and sculptured by Ahorn of 
Constance, in 1821. It commemorates the death of the 
Swiss guards who fell on that fated tenth of August, 1792, 
while defending the royal family of France. An inscription 
was placed over it more than fifty years ago : "Helvetiorum 
fidei ac vistuti" ("To the valor and fidelity of the Swiss.") 

with the names underneath of those who fell in defence of ?' H 

? % 
the Tuilleries. ty % 

Toward evening we visit the Hofkirche of St. Leode- 
gar, the principal catholic church of Lucerne, which is 
replete with history. The beautiful carved choir stalls and 
wonderful wrought iron screens, besides the magnificent 
woodcarvings dating back from the fifteenth century, are 
still perfect and are intensely interesting. Every week ${ 
day evening, from half past six to half past seven o'clock., jj 
there is an organ recital here, when the wonderful instru- •fo- 
ment, with its ninety stops, may be enjoyed by lovers of 
music. 



A 



s 1 



151 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 




CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Glacier Garden, A Restful Villa, On to 
Mayence. 

"Look what streaks 
Do lace the severing clouds in younder east ; 
Night's tapers are burnt out, and jocund day 
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops." 

— Shakespeare. 

E have witnessed the most severe thunder storm 
that the "oldest inhabitants" of Lucerne remem- 
ber ever having seen, and now the splendors of 
a radiant morning burst on the mountains, lake 
and town. The sky, as though repentant of her anger 
and tears, looks down with beaming smile, and nature, 
still trembling and wet with the glistening drops, lifts her 
blushing face to receive the kiss of peace. 

The Glacier Gardens are a most wonderful and inter- 
esting natural phenomenon. While excavations were being 
made for a house about thirty years ago, nine pot holes of 
an ancient glacier were discovered. The largest of them is 
thirty-one feet deep and twenty-six feet across. These 

152 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

were evidently hollowed out in prehistoric times by the 
water, which found its way through the fissures of the 
glaciers and turned the stones on the rocks with a rotary 
motion until the deep holes were worn, leaving the stones 
in deep hollows when the glaciers receded. There is one 
active at the present time, and, passing through a tunnel in 
the rock, we look up through an opening where the water 
passes through. In this cavity is a most brilliant light, of 
peacock blue. They teli us the reason of this cannot be 
explained. 

Passing through the musuem, where we enjoy seeing 
many marvelous curiosities, w T e follow a path, winding 
up the mountain side, until we come to a mountaineer's 
cottage. One room contains everything he possesses for 
his comfort and convenience, viz. a little box stove, teapot, 
coffeepot, plate, cup, spoon, knife and fork, table, stool and 
couch. On the wall hangs a pair of boots, with nails in 
the soles for climbing. There are also a staff, gun and pow- 
der horn. This cottage and furnishings tells its own story 
of the lives of hundreds of brave and hardy mountaineers, 
who know few of the comforts of civilization. They spurn 
those comforts that they may brave the frost and storm to 
rescue and save the lives of their flocks, which are as 
dear to them as their own. 



153 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

We climb up, up, across rustic bridges, through wind- 
ing paths to an observatory where, if one drops a dime into 
a slot he can view the surrounding country through a tele- 
scope. This is the most American of anything we have 
seen in this country. But, alas, not a dime have we in our 
possession! So, after enjoying this most delightful view 
without the aid of the instrument, we retrace our steps, fol- 
lowing side paths that lead into most enchanting nooks, 
where are little cottages nestling on the mountain side, and 
buildings containing groups of Alpine animals, tastefully 
arranged. This must be a fairy-like spot on pleasant even- 
ings when bright with electric lights. 

"Above me are the Alps, 
The palaces of nature, whose vast walls 

Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, 
And throned Eternity in icy halls 

Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls 
The avalanche — the thunderbolt of snow." 

— Byron 

The charming walks around Lucerne are numberless, 
they tell us. One we especially enjoy. Taking a tram, 
we ride along north of the lake at the foot of the mountains, 
to where the car stops. The scenery is so beautiful we are 
lured farther and farther along. A cool and shady avenue 
leads into a thicket of trees, and in its windings the 



154 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

highway is lost to view. I always have a strong desire 
when I see a road like this, to know what is beyond. While 
I am trying to curb my curiosity a lady comes along the 
road, and I ask if these are private grounds. 

In very broken English she replies, "It is my home; 
will you come and walk in the grounds?" 

This she says in such a cordial manner we could not 
refuse, had we the least desire to do so. She leads the 
way through the winding driveway, overhung with the 
branches of trees, to a lovely white villa, such as the banks 
of Lake Lucerne are dotted with. With evident pride she 
shows us her five beautiful children. After spending some 
time in the garden, she leads the way to the shore of the 
lake, where are the bath and boat houses, and seats us upon 
a rustic bench near the water, commanding a most exquisite 
view of the towns and mountains along the lake. 

She then excuses herself, as some duty claims her at- 
tention, and says, as she bids us good bye, "Remain here 
as long as you wish and then go wherever you like and 
enjoy the grounds." 

Never will we forget that quiet hour, after the constant 
whirl and rush of travel and sightseeing. Neither the one 
who permitted us to enjoy it. Here in this secluded spot, 
the silence broken only by the singing of the birds and the 



155 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

low splash and murmur of the waves as they break on the 
shore and recede, and these sounds mingled with the sweet- 
est music on earth, the rippling laughter of children at play, 
the symphony created is so merry yet so soothing, we are 
lulled into restfulness. How happy those whose lot it is to 
stay here among these mountains for weeks! Months 
could not exhaust the sights and wonders of this picturesque 
land. But we must away for the Rhine. 

The ride from Lucerne to Mayence is mostly through 
a very beautiful and fertile farming country. The people 
do their work in quite a primitive way, using the ox instead 
of the horse, the scythe in place of the mowing machine, 
the sickle instead of the reaper. It is the opinion of some 
that they had better come to America and learn how to do 
things right. 

It recalls to my mind a picture which has hung in 
memory's hall for many years, but, covered and hidden by 
the veil of oleasures and cares of life, has been somewhat 
dimmed. With one sweep of thought, the dust is cleared 
away and it stands out real and distinct. I see again a 
large field of waving grass, and in the midst is a strong 
man, who swings his scythe with steady and vigorous 
strokes, leaving behind him a swath as true as a sea wave's 
crest. Some distance away under a spreading tree are two 



156 




OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

little maids, barefooted and brown, with their natty pink 
sun bonnets thrown back on their shoulders. They weave 
garlands of the daisies and butter- 
cups they have gathered in the high 
grass. 

The strong man stops work for 
a moment to wipe the drops of sweat 
from his handsome brow, and sends 
a cheery shout across the billowy waves of grass. The 
two little maids laugh and lift the cover of the ample basket 
and peep in at the goodies which the dear wife and mother 
has so lovingly prepared for them. The sun shines and the 
birds sing. The picture is complete. 

I look again, but the picture now is somewhat marred. 
The sun shines just as brightly, the birds sing just as sweet- 
ly, but a shadow rests upon the scene. The strong man 
seems a little stooped, and his scythe moves more slowly 
as he presses on in his task. The large tree spreads its 
branches just the same, but only one little maid is there, 
and the flowers she has gathered lie withering by her side. 
Her little companion has left her for even a brighter world 
than this, but she lives on, and to-day this question comes 
to her as she gazes upon this landscape, and these peasants, 
dressed in their simple costumes, at their work: "In the 
onward march of science and invention, has not much of the 

157 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

simple pleasure and enjoyment of a more primitive life 
been swept away, for which there has been no adequate 
compensation ?" 

Late in the afternoon, as we halt at a station, the con- 
ductor comes along and looks at our tickets, and says some- 
thing in German and points out of the window. Not un- 
derstanding the language we are just as wise as though he 
had not said anything. A young French gentleman sitting 
opposite us, who speaks a very little English, looks at our 
tickets and tries to enlighten us, but without success. He is 
quite social and makes us understand that he is a brother- 
in-law of the French minister to Holland, also that he owns 
a million dollars worth of property in South America. 

So entertaining is he that our tickets are forgotten, 
though evidently designating a change of cars ; for when 
we stop at a station farther on, he again points out of the 
window in a hurried and excited manner. We look out, but 
not seeing anything unusual, coolly keep our seats. In an 
instant his hat is on and he has our suit cases one in either 
hand, and makes a grand rush out of the car. We bring up 
the rear in a very unready-like manner. He fairly flies 
along the pavement into a building, down a flight of steps, 
through a long corridor, up another flight and we after him, 
just in time to catch the train which is ready to pull out. 

158 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

We hardly have enough breath to express our thanks for 
his kindness. 

I have quite an elastic imagination, but stretch it as 
I may, I cannot quite conceive of an American millionaire 
so interesting himself in a couple of travel-stained foreign- 
ers as to risk the chance of missing his own train to assist 
them to catch theirs. 

We arrive in Mayence in the evening in company with 
a jolly old judge from Marietta, Ohio, whom we met on 
the train. For want of better company, he was carrying 
on a conversation with himself, or, perhaps, practicing a lit- 
tle for fear he might forget his mother tongue. 

Hearing him speak, I turned, with the usual salute, "Can 
you speak English?" 

Looking up quickly, he said, in his gruff way, "Well, 
I can't speak anything else." 

We find him a very pleasant traveling companion, and 
he gives us news of our acquaintances whom he met on the 
voyage coming over. Here in Mayence, we find our friends 
who left us at Milan, also several who were with us on the 
St. Louis. 



159 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 



CHAPTER XXIV. 
The Rhine and its Legends. 

"Bora where blooms the Alpine rose, 

Cradled in the Boden see — 
Forth the infant river flows, 

Leaping on in childish glee, 
Coming to a riper age, 

He crowns his rocky cup with wine, 
And makes a gallant pilgrimage 

To many a ruined tower and shrine." 




N ideal day for an ideal trip on the clear, green 
waters of the Rhine. This stream takes on, at 
different stages of its course, the characters of 
the torrent, gulf, lake, sluggish river and marsh. 
Probably no spot on earth is so rich in legendary lore or so 
suggestive of poetry, especially to the German heart, as this 
river and the surrounding country. From Mayence to 
Bingen the banks are dotted with pretty villages, and beyond 
these, rich and fertile plains stretch far away as if to say 
to the river, "There is plenty of room. Occupy all you 

1 60 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 
wish." At Bingen, the rocky cliffs rise up disputing its 
rights, and turning it from its course they crowd it until 
they compress it into a narrow channel. And so closely do 
these hills abut on the river that there is scarcely room 
for a highway along its banks. 

From Mayence to Koenigswinter is the most historic, 
the most poetic, the most picturesque part of the Rhine. At 
every turn there comes in view some ancient castle crowning 
the top of a rocky crag, or hill, whose sloping sides are cov- 
ered with luxuriant vineyards, and at whose feet, as if 
seeking protection, nestles some village or hamlet. Here 
the fisherman mends his net in his boat, and the merry voices 
of children ring out in play on the bank, while the good 
wife in the cottage sings at her 
work. How we long to stop and 
visit some of these old ruined 
castles and go still farther away, 
over beyond the hills. For we 
know that the foot traveler stum- 
bles onto many an ancient and ivy-covered ruin, each one 
of them having some strange legend which makes it doubly 
interesting. 

Near Bingen, in the middle of the Rhine, is an old 
castle called Mausethrum, or the Rat, and its legend is 
strange and weird. It runs like this: "Once upon a time 
there lived in Mayence a cruel and miserly archbishop, 

161 




PENCIL SKETCHES, 

named Hatto, who was lavish with his blessings, but chary 
with his gifts. One bad harvest he purchased all the corn, 
so as to be able to sell it again at a high price. At length 
the famine became so great that the peasants along the 
Rhine were starving for lack of bread. They assembled 
in Mayence and, weeping, demanded corn. This the arch- 
bishop refused to give them. They persistently surround- 
ed the palace uttering frightful groans and cries. This 
annoyed Hatto and he commanded his officers to seize men, 
women and children and shut them up in a granary 10 
which he set fire. 

"Hatto laughed and said : 'Hear the rats squeal,' as he 
heard their screams. 

"But lo ! from the ashes of the granary sprang millions 
of rats, rilling the town, swarming the streets, the citadel, 
the palace. Every niche was alive with them. Hatto in 
despair, quitted Mayence and fled to the plains, but the 
rats followed him there. He shut himself up in Bingen, 
which was surrounded by a wall but they crept under the 
walls. Then the frantic bishop caused a tower to be built 
in the middle of the river, for refuge, but thousands of rats 
swam across, climbed up the tower, gnawed the doors, win- 
dows and ceilings and at last reached the place where the 
wicked Hatto was hidden and devoured him." 



162 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

Now the old castle is deserted and crumbling into 
ruin. Sometimes now, they say there is a red vapor issu- 
ing from it, resembling the smoke of a furnace. The soul of 
Hatto, no doubt, still hovers over the place. 

It adds much to our enjoyment to read these strange 
legends, which have been told from generation to genera- 
tion for many centuries. So, for the day, we will indulge 
in the fancy that those mysterious creatures which peopled 
these legends really did exist. 

The very air we breathe seems laden with the atomic 
deities or sylphs who, seen in the night, assume bodies by 
no means void of grace and beauty. While in the deep 
green waters, Nixens and Undines, the restless souls of 
poor girls who, driven to despair by love, have thrown 
themselves into the river, hold their court, presided over 
by the great Nichus. And the wind whispers in our ears 
its own tales of marvelous adventure. 

In Germany the wind was not deified as in Rome, but 
the poets gave Master Wind an important place. I copy a 
ballad from "Myths of the Rhine." 

"Gretchen, the miller's daughter was courted by the 
son of the king. Her father, the miller, knowing that 
kings' sons are not apt to marry, had chosen her a husband, 
a voimg: flour merchant from Rotterdam. 



'£> 



■63 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

"The Dutchman was on his way up the Rhine; that 
very evening he was expected to arrive to make his pro- 
posals. 

"Gretchen called upon Master Wind to help her; he 
came in by the window, but not without breaking a num- 
ber of panes. 

" 'What do you wish me to do ?' 
" 'A man wants to marry me against my will; he is com- 
ing in a sail boat; contrive it so that he cannot land at 
Bingen.' 

"The wind blew and blew so well that the boat, instead 
of coming up to Bingen, was driven back again as far as 
Rotterdam. 

"At Rotterdam also it could not make land; it was 
driven into the North Sea and there the Dutchman is per- 
haps still sailing about at this day. 

"But Master Wind had made his conditions before 
he went to work to blow so well; and the miller's pretty 
daughter had agreed to them without hearing them, for 
all around her the furniture, the doors, and the blinds were 
shaking and rattling furiously, thanks to her visitor. Thus 
it came about that poor Gretchen found herself betrothed to 
Master Wind, which made her very sad, for now she had 
less hope than ever of marrying the king's son. 



164 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

"However, Master Wind was as gallant towards his 
fair betrothed as he could be. Every morning when she 
opened her window, he would throw her beautiful bouquets 
of flowers which he had torn off in the neighboring gardens. 
"If any young man of the village whom she had re- 
jected passed without saluting her, Master Wind was 
promptly at hand to carry off his hat and send it up in the 
air until soon it looked no bigger than a lark. It was well 
for him that Master Wind did not, with the hat, take his 
head off at the same time. 

"One day (when Master Wind must have been asleep), 
the king's son came to the mill, made his way without diffi- 
culty to Gretchen's chamber and forthwith desired to kiss 
her. Gretchen did not object. But at once and although 
out of doors all was quiet, the tables and chairs performed 
a wild dance, and the doors and windows began to slam as 
if they had been mad. 

"Gretchen herself began to twirl around and around 
in the most unaccountable manner. Her hair was loosed 
by an invisible hand and whisked about her head with 
strange rustling and dismal whistling. 

"Terrified by the sight of a tempest in a close room, 
the prince cried : ' Ah ! accursed one, you are the betrothed 
of Master Wind !' 

165 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

"And at the same moment a terrible gust of wind car- 
ried off the king's son, the miller's daughter and the mill, 
and no one ever saw or heard anything more of them." 

Perhaps they went to join the Dutchman, who was all 
this time sailing about in the North Sea, or the hat which 
was still on its way in the clouds. 

The legend does not tell us whether it was before or 
after this occurrence that Master Wind married Mistress 
Rain. 

We pass the rock of Lorelei, or Lurley, celebrated for 
its beautiful echo, which repeats the sound five times, and 
a company on board sing the song of Heine, "Ich weiss 
nicht was, soil es bedeuten," "(I do not know what it 
presages.)" After leaving St. Goar behind, a turn in the river 
brings us in sight of Brauback castle perched high on a 
rocky crag, and its legend runs like this : 

"Count Herman von Filsen, whose estate lay on the 
right bank of the Rhine, between Oster Spei and Brauback, 
was about to marry the rich heiress of the castle of Rheins, 
on the other bank. His messenger had started to carry the 
letters of invitation to all the guests, but a sudden rise of 
the water had nearly prevented his crossing a small stream. 
In trying to get over his horse stumbled and was drowned. 
The messenger, however, did not lose courage, but went 

1 66 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

on his way on foot. Everywhere he found the brooks 
swollen into streams and the torrents seemed to press him 
more and more closely, describing curves and zigzags, with 
countless obstacles barring the way on all sides and making 
the usual path impassable. 

"By the aid of a huge stick, and jumping from rock 
to rock the poor, half bewildered man kept on, walking well- 
nigh at haphazard, till he found himself near the Rhine, 
into which the swollen torrent rushing after him with sud- 
den fury, seemed determined to push him. Fortunately a 
small boat was lying quite near the shore. He loosed it, 
took the oars and returned to Filsen. 

"When he reached the castle, he said to the count : 'Sir 
a nix has barred me the way.' 

"The count did not believe in nixen. He sent out 
another messenger, but the same adventure befell him. 

"The wedding day had been fixed and the count went 
on, although he feared his friends and followers would be 
few in number. One morning as he crossed the river 
from the right bank to the left, in order to pay a visit to 
his lady love, a sudden tempest broke out. He thought he 
saw a pale form arising from the water, bending over the bow 
of the boat and trying to draw it down into the abyss 
beneath the waters. Thereupon he became thoughtful, sent 

167 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

for his steward and advised him to find out what had be- 
come of a certain girl of the neighborhood, Gottfried, from 
Brauback. 

" 'I met her a few days ago,' replied the steward, 'as 
she was going to St. Mark's chapel, and I offered her holy- 
water. Gottfried asked me about your approaching wed- 
ding. She was very well and seemed to be in good spirits.' 

" 'Go and see if you can find her,' said the count, 'and 
bring me word.' 

"During the wedding feast, Herman von Filsen ap- 
peared joyous and attentive to his bride, the new countess, 
but the effort to appear so caused his perspiration to break 
out profusely, especially when all of a sudden a small 
woman's foot, white and delicate, appeared to his eyes, and 
to his only, on the ceiling of the dinner hall. 

"He felt a chill in all his limbs. He rose suddenly 
and fled to another room, followed by his wife, his mother 
and all the guests, who thought he had been seized with 
sudden illness. 

"In his room he saw, and he alone again saw, a white 
hand raise a curtain and with the forefinger beckon him to 
follow. 

"Long time ago Herman had heard, without paying 
any attention at that time to the statement, that such a 

1 68 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

small white foot and a small white hand indicated the 
presence of an Undine, and the coming of an inevitable 
calamity. Now he believed it. The bishop who had per- 
formed the marriage ceremony was at the dinner. Herman 
went straight up to him, knelt down and confessed aloud 
and with tears, that a young girl named Gottfried, fairer 
and better than all her sisters, had loved him dearly and he 
had returned her love and then abandoned her. Gottfried 
had sought oblivion of her sufferings in the river, and now 
was bent upon revenge. 

" 'Bless me, father, for I am going to die !' 

"The bishop, before uttering the words of absolution, 
demanded first that the count should abjure his impious faith 
in such supernatural beings, of whom the church knew 
nothing. 

" 'How can I refuse to believe what I see ? There she 
is! Looking as pale as she was this morning at the bow 
of the boat. Her hair, full of green grass, is hanging in 
disorder all over her shoulders, she looks at me with a tear- 
ful smile.' 

" 'Nothing but visions,' replies the bishop. 'Your 
eyes deceive you/ 

" 'But it is not only by my eyes I am aware of her 

presence, I hear her voice ; she is calling me. Forgive me 

Gottfried.' 

169 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

" 'You are out of your mind ! These are the devil's 
snares ! And who tells you that the girl has ceased to live ? 
That she has committed a crime? Thanks be to God, Gott- 
fried came to me; she confessed to me penitently, and now 
is in a convent!' 

"At this moment the assembly, already deeply excited, 
was somewhat startled by the entrance of the steward, who 
looked terrified, went up to the count's mother and whis- 
pered some words into her ear. She could not repress a 
cry. 

" 'Dead !' she said. 

' 'Yes, she is dead, and I also must die !' cried Herman 
in accents of despair. 

"The young bride, offended at this avowal of a previous 
attachment, had at first stood aloof; now, consulting her 
own heart alone she thought of contesting the right of 
this invisible rival, and with open arms drew near the count, 
but he pushed her aside rudely. 

"The bishop began his exorcisms. While he was re 

peating the prescribed words, the count asked : 'What do 

you want of me, Gottfried? Forgive me and we will all 

pray for you. You are weeping and kissing me by turns, 

but your kisses are nothing but bitterness and sorrow to me, 

since I have given my name to another, since another is 

my ' 

170 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

"He could not complete the sentence. Uttering a sharp 
cry, he fell at full length to the ground, and on his neck 
appeared a long bluish mark, such as is seen on strangled 
persons." 

It is interesting to watch the huge rafts of timber we 
pass on our way down the river. Although not as large 
as they formerly made them, we are informed, still we 
think a raft four or five hundred feet long is quite a sight. 
It takes two hundred men and sometimes more to navigate 
it. They have their little city of huts on the raft, not a 
miniature Venice, but then it is a home where these men 
live from two to six weeks at a time. At Dart, the rafts 
are broken up and sold, some of them bringing more than 
thirty thousand pounds, or nearly $150,000. 

We are now in the district where the finest wines 
are made. Rhine grapes are for sale on the boat. They 
are not as large as those of Eschol, but they are the largest 
grapes we ever saw, and the highest priced, also, being one 
dollar a bunch. We will not indulge, but deny our stomachs 
and add to our collection of souvenir spoons. 

Bonn is of interest to us, being the birthplace of 
Beethoven. Indeed, every mile of the way is fraught with 
interest, and we would like to know the history of this 
stream, for to know that, would be to know the history of 
nearly all western Europe. 

171 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

I have heard it remarked that the Germans in their 
own country do not drink as Americans do, but sit a long 
time by their glasses and sip their beer. Today we have 
watched with some amusement, a very striking example of 
their customs. Not very far from us at a table on the deck of 
the steamer, a party of four, two men and two women, have 
sat by their glasses all day, but I think I am safe in saying 
that the contents of those glasses have been changed at 
least every fifteen minutes. They must have sampled every 
variety of wine made in this country and these were sand- 
wiched with lager beer. At Coblenz, their faces were 
flushed, at Bonn, they were scarlet and when we reached our 
destination, Cologne, they did not seem to care a whit 
whether it was Cologne or attar of roses. 



172 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 



CHAPTER XXV. 
Cologne, Back to London. 




ATE in the afternoon we reach Cologne, and pro- 
ceed at once to our hotel. We make a hasty toilet 
and repair to the dining room. Mr. McFarren, 
looking rather glum, meets us and imparts the in- 
formation that we are a few minutes late, the dining room 
is closed and we will be obliged to go somewhere else for 
dinner. 

He also makes this remark : "That piece of statuary in 
the office thinks he is about the prettiest thing that ever was," 
meaning the proprietor, who certainly is a handsome man. 
Well, for a party of half famished travelers, this is 
not just agreeable. I volunteer to interview the "piece of 
statuary," so, walking into the office in a very matter-of- 
fact way, for I knew well it would be best to be pleasant 
about it, I ask, "How soon can our dinner be served ?" 

He politely says, "You are too late, dinner was served 

at seven o'clock." 

173 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

With a forced laugh, I reply, "You don't mean to say 
that we cannot have any dinner, after traveling all day, 
do you?" 

For an instant he looked in my face, and he must have 
seen famine written there, for he said, "Tell your party to 
come right this way," pointing in an opposite direction 
from the general dining room, where we were soon bounti- 
fully served, in a most beautiful private room. 

Go where you will in Cologne, the lofty spires of the 
great cathedral can be seen towering high above every other 
structure. Indeed, as one approaches the city, he sees 
the cathedral before he does the town. It is one of the 
famous churches of the world, and contains a wealth of art 
in paintings and sculpture. The reputed tomb of the three 
wise men, or magi, of the East, who visited Bethlehem 
soon after the birth of our Lord, is here. The windows 
of this magnificent building are beautiful and brilliant be- 
yond description, being painted with all the extravagance of 
the German Renaissance style. 

It is in the early morning when we enter the cathedral. 
The light is subdued and silence reigns. We sit down and 
enjoy the stillness. It had been a dream of ours, before 
leaving home, and we had often spoken of it — that we would 
love to go into one of those old, dimly lighted cathedrals 
and sit down and listen to the organ. 

174 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

After a time I turn to Veiva and say, "I guess our lit- 
tle dream of sitting alone in one of the old cathedrals and 
listening — " I get no further, for at that moment the soft, 
low tones of the organ in a distant part of the church fall 
upon our ears. The strains grow stronger and louder until 
they throb and vibrate through the great building. 
Then, as the chanting of the choir is heard, we involuntarily 
turn and clasp each other's hands and look into each other's 
faces and it seems almost as though a prayer is being an- 
swered. 

We spend hours rambling about this old town, through 
its shops and beautifully ornamented squares and gardens. 
It goes without saying that every one who visits this city 
carries away some of its celebrated perfume. On the Rhine 
steamer, our traveling companions who left us at Milan, 
made the discovery that their tickets for that trip had been 
taken from them by mistake somewhere on the journey. 
Now, here at Cologne, Veiva has the misfortune to lose 
her ticket to Antwerp. 

She feels that it was carelessness and says, "I am not 
going to worry a moment, but I am going to punish myself 
by riding third class." 

She also thinks it will be a good opportunity to study 
character. She is so anxious to do so, I give my consent, 



175 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

providing she can go on the same train that I do. The 
ticket agent says she will do so, and we start that way, she 
being in about the fourth car in front of mine. She waves 
to me and tells me she is all right, and so she does at the 
second and third stations after leaving Cologne. But as we 
back out of the station at the next town, I look out once 
more and lo! the train is cut in two and the car she is in 
with others, is left, and we go sailing off without her. One 
can hardly imagine how I feel as I see the gap widening 
between us, unless it is Veiva, who, with sinking heart, sees 
our train as it diminishes, becomes a mere speck and dis- 
appears in the distance. 

We both know that our train should reach Antwerp 
just in time for the steamer that leaves for Harwich. At 
first I am inclined to be frantic with worry, for how do I 
know where she will be taken? Then I think, "This is an- 
other joke." I find consolation in knowing she has plenty 
of money with her and is bright enough to find her way 
to London, so I think I will go right along, as that is all I 
can do, and try to enjoy the scenery. But, someway, there 
was always a girl in tan, with an anxious look on her face, 
in the picture, and I don't think I shall ever have a clear 
idea of what I saw between Cologne and Antwerp. 

We reach the station in Antwerp and go on board the 
steamer. It is time for sailing, my hope of seeing Veiva 

i 7 6 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

is abandoned, as the sailors are about to pull in the gang 
plank, when she springs across and, with a laugh, tells 
me her experiences. After we left her, she changed cars 
at four different stations, in company with a couple of Ger- 
man girls from America, who were very kind and helpful. 
She said she had a rare opportunity to study character ; but 
when she stepped off from the train at Antwerp, she was 
alone and in the opposite part of the town from where we 
stopped. 

As she stood helpless and not knowing just what to do, 
a young man, evidently an officer of some kind, picked up 
her suit case, but with a lot of dignity she said, "If you 
please, I will attend to my own luggage." 

He started on with it, laughing and saying, "If you 
want to make that boat, come with me quick." 

He helped her on a tram which brought her directly to 
the steamboat landing, not a moment too soon. 

After dinner, we go on deck and stay until driven in 
by the wind. It grows very stormy as we reach the open 
sea, and we have a rough passage; at least, so think many, 
I imagine, by the doleful sounds which echo and re-echo 
through the ship. Veiva and I still prove ourselves good 
sailors. After the night's rest, we step on old England's 
shore again, at Harwich, and during the ride to London we 



177 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

are again filled with admiration for her pleasant rural homes 
and farms. As we ride through the streets of London it is 
like meeting an old friend, and most of all, we appreciate 
the fact that we can talk and be understood. Our visit to 
Oxford, which we have looked forward to with so much 
pleasure, must be given up, as we have only one day before 
sailing from Southampton. 



178 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

Westminster Abbey. 

"That antique pile behold, 
Where royal heads receive the sacred gold; 
It gives them crowns ; and does their ashes keep ; 
These made like gods, like mortals there they sleep, 
Making the circle of their reign complete — 
These suns of empires, where they rise, they set." 




FTER visiting so many of the celebrated churches 
on the continent, we have thought perhaps West- 
minster Abbey might be disappointing, but we do 
not find it so. It has an individuality of its own. 
As one passes down its aisles in the subdued light, it inspires 
a feeling of reverence and awe, which is lacking when in 
those great catholic cathedrals. 

The Abbey is of Gothic design, built in the form of a 
cross, four hundred feet long and two hundred feet wide 
It was first founded in 610 A. D., by King Sebert. It has 
been once destroyed and rebuilt, and several times injured 

179 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

and restored. The last time it was restored by Christopher 
Wren, and, like all his work, is both substantial and beau- 
tiful. In the last century, many windows have been painted, 
representing the most beautiful and touching scenes of the 
Te Deum, also other windows illustrative of the old testa- 
ment characters. The great rose window is commemora- 
tive of our Lord and His apostles. 

In the center of the Abbey and surrounded by other 
chapels, is that of Edward the Confessor. Here is the 
mosaic shrine of the confessor, before which Henry IV. 
was stricken down with his last illness, while confessing, 
besides many fine monuments erected to the memory of 
other kings and queens. Here, too, are the chairs used at 
the coronation of the sovereigns of Great Britain since Ed- 
ward the Confessor. Underneath the seat of one, is the 
famous "Stone of Scone." Tradition says it was this stone 
on which Jacob rested his head when he had that wonder- 
ful "ladder dream." It was formerly known in Scotland as 
"Jacob's Pillow." The royal coronation always takes place 
here, and even though the ceremony has been performed 
elsewhere, it is thought necessary to repeat it here, with 
great pomp and magnificence, before the most noted per- 
sonages of the land. The moment the crown is placed upon 
the head of the king or queen, the tower guns are signaled 

to fire a royal salute. 

1 80 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

We linger some time in the Poet's Corner, situated at 
the end of one of the trancepts where are buried, and monu- 
ments erected to the memory of, a large number of the 
greatest poets and dramatists. A few have statues, but 
the larger number have busts, medallions or merely inscrip- 
tions. The monument to Milton, author of "Paradise Lost," 
has a bust, and a tablet with a lyre around which a serpent 
holding an apple is entwined. That to Shakespeare is a full 
length statue leaning against a pillar with the crowned heads 
of Queen Elizabeth, Henry V. and Richard II. While they 
ruled over a kingdom, he was king of the realm of literature. 
A beautiful monument, with full length statue, organ and 
music scroll, commemorates the memory of Handel; but in 
his composition of the wonderful oratorio, "The Messiah," 
he erected a monument to himself more enduring than stone 
or marble. 

We have wandered among the tombs of kings and 
queens, lords and ladies, knights and generals; for West- 
minster seems like one vast sepulcher. We have stood by 
the grave of the handsome, haughty, Elizabeth ; and nearby 
it is the tomb of Mary, Queen of Scots, on which the marble 
figure of the beautiful but unfortunate queen is lying. 

Our eyes wander through this vast and magnificent 
pile, along the ancient chapels crowded with monuments 

181 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

representing the human form in numberless postures. Here 
a beautiful cherub, kneeling in prayer, and there, in the 
monument to Mr. and Mrs. Nightingale, is the sheeted skele- 
ton, aiming his dart at his victim, who sinks into her terri- 
fied husband's arms. He tries to avert the blow, but death's 
aim is sure, and his shaft is driven home. Surely, he who 
could conceive such a strange design as this last did not 
believe in robbing death of its horrors. 

Above these marble tombs the walls are carved with 
designs of such delicacy of workmanship that the massive 
stone assumes a light and airy texture. Then, mounting to 
the groined ceiling, the eye rests on the most exquisite spec- 
imens of fan tracery in existence, the whole surface being 
covered with a network of lace-like carvings, so delicate that 
it seems more like the work of the frost king, than of man's 
work in stone. 

A melancholy silence reigns throughout the building. 
We feel very humble and small as we stand amidst this 
mighty grandeur, which time and atmosphere are so sadly 
defacing. The stone is crumbling, and many of the carv- 
ings are becoming obliterated ; and we fancy that in the cen- 
turies to come, the ivy-grown towers, broken arches and 
rubbish-strewn chapels may be pointed out to the traveler 
as the ruins of the famous Westminster Abbey. 

182 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

In the words of Irving, "'What, then, is to insure this 
pile, which now towers above me, from sharing the fate of 
mightier mausoleums ? The time must come when its gilded 
vaults, which now spring so loftilv, shall lie in rubbish be- 
neath the feet; when instead of the sound of melody and 
praises, the wind shall whistle through the broken arches 
and the owl hoot from the shattered tower ; when the garish 
sunbeam shall break into these gloomy mansions of the 
dead, and the ivy twine around the fallen columns, and the 
foxglove hang its blossoms about the nameless urn, as if in 
mockery of the dead. Thus man passes away; his name 
perishes from record and recollection; his name is as a 
tale that is told, and his very monument becomes a ruin." 



183 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

London Shops, Homeward Bound. 



HFTER lunching in a scrupulously clean and airy 
restaurant in Trafalgar Square, we mount an 
I omnibus and ride to within a few blocks of the 

"Old Curiosity Shop," made famous by Charles 
Dickens. We do not need to have it pointed out to us, for 
we know it the moment we come in sight of it. I go directly 
to the little front door with the old-fashioned knocker, or 
bell, not looking through the glass in the upper part of it 
at first, but the next instant I see a little old man at his desk 
in the hall, with a very angry expression on his face, as he 
shakes his head and motions for us to go away. 

For a moment, the delusion is strong that Daniel Quilp, 
the ugly dwarf, is still in possession of the shop, and still 
making use of his horrible grimaces to frighten people. We 
make bold and go, by another door, into a small room rilled 
with articles seemingly as old and queer as the shop itself. 
There are water-color sketches of the different char- 
acters of the story, in the window, but when we ask the 
man if there is not something he will sell us, either they are 

184 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

not for sale, or he is too much offended at our intrusion ; for 
he shakes his head and replies, ''Nothing, madam." 

We decide to spend the remaining part of the afternoon 
in the most fashionable shopping district of London, Regent 
and Oxford streets, although we have by no means exhaust- 
ed all the interesting and historical places of the city. Re- 
gent street is one of the handsomest, broadest and most 
fashionable of London's thoroughfares. Certainly, neither 
the streets nor shops are disappointing. 

In all European cities, a good representation of their 
merchandise is displayed in the windows, the rich and more 
elegant articles being very artistically arranged, but we are 
surprised at the smallness of the interiors. The shops are 
not crowded with customers, there is no rush. 
The shopkeeper, when he discovers we are from America, 
has ample time to go out into the street and point out places 
of interest to us and tell us of the good will England bears 
our country. 

We go from place to place, admiring and enjoying the 
beautiful, making our purchases arid wishing we were rich 
enough to surprise all our friends at home with some beauti- 
ful souvenir from this great and magnificent city. 

And now, at half past ten o'clock in the evening, I sit 
in my room writing the last words of my journal of expe- 
rience in a foreign land. We are to leave London to- 

185 



PENCIL vSKETCHES, 

morrow morning at half past eight o'clock, for Southamp- 
ton, from whence we sail, at eleven o'clock, for New York, 
on the St. Paul. And it is with a quicker heart-throb that 
we think of clasping our dear ones in our arms and talking 
with them, face to face, and heart to heart. 

We are again out at sea, but this time, homeward bound. 
The last narrow line of land has dropped into the water, 
out of sight, and we settle down to ship life once more as 
naturally as though it were but yesterday that we left the 
St. Louis. 

The St. Paul is the exact counterpart of the St. Louis, 
and if it were not for the change of captain and crew, we 
would not realize but what we were again on that steamer. 
Many of our friends of the St. Louis are returning home 
with us. We gather in groups, at times, and relate some 
of our experiences while traveling on the continent, and we 
learn that we were not the only ones who got into predica- 
ments. But we all agree that we would not have had those 
same experiences omitted from our program for a great deal, 
for they were the spice which flavored many an hour that 
otherwise might have been less enjoyable. And I fancy that 
long after the picture of mausoleums, ruins and preserved 
saints has faded from our memories, these things, which 
seem of so little importance now, will stand out clear and 

distinct. 

1 86 



OR EUROPE AS I SAW IT. 

Most of the time for the first three days we spend in 
sleep ; for not until we are again on the ocean do we realize 
how tired we are. The weather has been stormy much of 
the time since leaving Southampton, and many are seasick. 

Several of us are watching a certain Dr. M , an M. E. 

divine, who is to treat us to ice cream if he succumbs to 
that complaint ; but I fear we will be left, for he is fighting 
bravely. 

In the evenings several gather together and sing, but 
it is only half-hearted. Yet, some even have the courage 
to arrange an entertainment. There is excellent talent on 
board, and the concert proves a great success; there being 
programs enough sold to leave a handsome sum of money 
for the benefit of the sailors' widows and orphans, in London 
and New York. 

After a safe but uneventful voyage of seven days, the 
last day comes that we are to spend on the St. Paul. Every- 
one is busy. There is packing to be done, accounts to be 
balanced, so as to know how we stand with the world, lists 
to be made of all purchases made while abroad, and their 
values to be made out, to facilitate matters with the custom 
house officers, and good-byes to be said. 

Unfortunately for our friends at home, but very for- 
tunately for ourselves, we shall have no tales of hairbreadth 
escapes on land, or fierce storms at sea, but only those com- 

187 



PENCIL SKETCHES, 

mon occurrences that are incident to most travelers abroad. 
We stay on deck until near midnight, for this is our last 
evening to enjoy old ocean, who is in one of his most 
pleasant and amiable moods. 

Early in the morning we steam into beautiful New 
York harbor. As we feel the tremble of the ship as she 
comes alongside of her moorings, it is like being awakened 
from some vivid and delightful dream, only to find ourselves 
in our own room, with its familiar furnishings. We rub 
our eyes to make sure it is real. Oh, yes ! There are duties 
to be performed to-day, but the wonderful dream mingles 
with and beautifies the dullest task. 

So the memories of this most delightful of pleasure 
trips are to broaden our thoughts, deepen our charity and 
love for our fellow creatures, and lighten and beautify 
our every task, be they ever so humble. 




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